


The Dragons' Rebirth

by StarLight_Massacre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 226,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLight_Massacre/pseuds/StarLight_Massacre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blood of the dragon has been failing over the decades. The various wars, rebellions and fights have whittled the family down to just five remaining members. An ancient prophecy from old Valyria that was unearthed by the oldest Targaryen Prince leads to forbidden love and perhaps to true love also. Secrets and subterfuge, war and madness plague the Targaryen family, but the dragons do not so easily die and with strength, perseverance and a few choice alliances, the blood of the dragon will strengthen again and it will lead to the rekindling of the royal family and to the fated rebirth of the long lost dragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 276AC

Author: StarLight Massacre

 

Title: The Dragons’ Rebirth

 

Rating: M, but it will change to R in later chapters in certain scenes.

 

Story Warnings: A Song of Ice and Fire canon warnings. Slash, violence, incest, language, blood, torture, mutilation, imprisonment, death threats, mentions of non-explicit rape, minor warnings, Mpreg, caesarean birthing, miscarriage, character deaths.

 

Pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen/Haradarian ‘Harry’ Targaryen

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or A Song of Ice and Fire; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and to George R.R. Martin respectfully. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

 

Summary: The blood of the dragon has been failing over the decades and various wars, rebellions and fights have whittled the family down to just five remaining members. An ancient prophecy from old Valyria that was unearthed by the oldest Targaryen Prince leads to forbidden love and perhaps to true love too. Secrets and subterfuge, war and madness plague the Targaryen family, but the dragons do not so easily die off and with strength, perseverance and a few choice alliances, the blood of the dragon will strengthen again and it will lead to the rekindling of the royal family and to the fated rebirth of the long lost dragons.

 

Additional Notes: Just a small reminder that the Song of Ice and Fire universe does NOT have seasons as we do, summer could last for a year, winters have lasted for ten years, and also, they don’t use ‘month’ instead they use the phases of the moon and a full month would be called a ‘turn’ instead. So in this fic, every instance where month should be, I’ve stuck to canon and used turn instead. Except in the cases where the character is counting the ‘months’ in which case they will say X moon. For example November would be the eleventh moon of the year. It’s not precise, but there’s little else I can do when they didn’t have months or seasons to follow.  
I’ve aged up some characters as I’ve needed to, particularly Ser Arthur Dayne, who I know is mentioned as being a peer of Rhaegar Targaryen, thus he would be near the same age as him. I’ve aged him up by only a few years to suit the purpose of this fic to add him to the Kingsguard at the beginning of the fic and not later on, but it is a minor change that doesn’t affect the story too much.

Chapter Warnings: Minor mentions, child birth, death threats, mentions of imprisonment, character death.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Preface

 

Ser Barristan Selmy remembered well the day that the second Prince had been born, on the thirty-first day of the seventh moon in the year 264AC. It was a very unusual occurrence because birthing was a private event and such things were done behind closed doors with only a Maester present, but the second Prince had been different from the beginning.

He had been born in The Great Sept of Baelor, in front of a huge congregation of nobles and smallfolk alike who were there for a blessing on the holy day of the Mother. Barristan remembered it well, and a little fondly too, as he, and his six other sworn brothers, had been present too as all three members of the royal family had been in the Sept and they were sworn to protect the royal family. King Aerys the second, his heavily pregnant sister-wife, Queen Rhaella, and their young son, the five year old crown Prince Rhaegar, his silver hair reflecting the light streaming in through the crystal windows.

It had been a normal congregation as the High Septon blessed all those who had come in the name of the Seven and then it had gone from normal to very abnormal as Queen Rhaella had gasped loudly and then screamed.

The Kingsguard had reacted immediately, he remembered proudly, but there was naught that could be done as the Queen slid slowly down to the floor, fluid pooling underneath her as she screamed again and again in the deadly silent Sept and people craned their heads to try and see what was happening.

Barristan remembered well that it had been Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander, who had yelled for Grand Maester Pycelle to be found and brought to the Sept. He remembered that it had been Ser Oswell Whent who had picked up the five year old Prince Rhaegar as he cried for his Mother, trying to reach for her, and he remembered Queen Rhaella pulling up her beautiful gown, exposing herself, and there had been a small head between her legs.

The babe was two turns premature and coming out much faster than Barristan would have expected. He had heard stories told of babes taking hours to come out as their Mother’s laboured, sometimes overnight, to bring the babes into the world, yet the second Prince was taking mere minutes to arrive, too soon, too quickly, but the babe had chosen his entrance and he had chosen it to be bloody. Bloody and silent.

Queen Rhaella had pulled the baby free of herself in a torrent of blood and fluid, almost as gruesome as the battlefield, and the babe hadn’t cried. Fearing the worst, the Queen had quickly turned the babe over, only to see two huge, blue eyes blinking up at her. Barristan remembered those big, blue eyes. The babe had looked as surprised to have been born as everyone else had been, as if the swiftness of his birth had shocked even him.

 

‘A boy.’ Queen Rhaella had said quietly, softly as she cradled the silent babe to her breast, bloodying her gown further without caring.

 

The Septas had attended to the Queen and her newborn son, while the High Septon had praised the babe loudly and profusely, exclaiming that the gods themselves had blessed the babe. That the Seven, particularly the Mother upon whose holy day the babe had been born on, had accepted him and that his birth was a sign of great things to come.

 

‘What will you name him, my Queen?’ Someone, one of the smallfolk, had called out from the back of the Sept.

 

The Queen had smiled and with barely a glance at her brother-husband, she had answered. ‘Haradarian. His name will be Haradarian.’

 

Those present in The Great Sept of Baelor had cheered loudly, the High Septon had done Haradarian’s blessing then and there as he was cradled, naked and bloody, in his Mother’s arms, still blinking those big, blue eyes around curiously, almost confusedly as if he had no inkling of where he was or what was transpiring around him.

Grand Maester Pycelle had come running, puffing and panting to attend the Queen and her newborn and he had declared, after a thorough examination, that while very small, Haradarian was robust and healthy, though he would need to be fed up a little bit.

Barristan remembered the jet black hair, wet and gooey with blood and mucus, he remembered Prince Rhaegar touching his baby brother reverently, with soft, chubby fingers, but most of all he remembered the eerie silence and those big, blue eyes. It was such a strange occurrence, a baby being completely silent after being born and peering around, as if already learning and having thoughts, that it was imprinted clearly upon his memory.

Those big eyes had turned a shade of dark, emerald green within weeks of his birth and the turns that followed afterwards were tense and strained as the Queen tried to protest her innocence and her fidelity to King Aerys, who did not believe that the boy was his.

 

‘How can he be next to Rhaegar?’ The King had demanded, pointing to his oldest child with his silver hair and his dark purple eyes.

 

‘He is yours, Aerys! I swear it on the Seven!’ The Queen had beseeched. “Baelor Breakspear had dark hair and eyes! His brother Maekar was silver haired and purple eyed, it has happened before, please, do not say such things of your own son!’

 

The King had acquiesced and he had welcomed his second son into his heart wholly, if a bit belatedly. It was assumed that it was mostly due to the boy being praised as a gift from the Seven above, and the smallfolk praying for him and blessing him at the Great Sept. They adored their new Prince, who had been born almost before their very eyes, in the same room as them, and as a result the altar for the Mother had not been visible for several turns after Prince Haradarian’s birth as it overflowed with blessings, lit candles and tokens of love and health. But none of the tension between his parents, nor the acclaim of the smallfolk, had bothered the young Prince Haradarian in the least, not in those first few weeks after his birth, nor the years that followed. All Barristan could remember of that time was laughter. A high, bright giggling laughter that accompanied Prince Haradarian wherever he went from the very moment that he woke up in the mornings.

Barristan had been patrolling the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast numerous times and often the first noise to break the silence of the early morning was a bright, happy giggle to signify that the youngest Prince was awake for the day. Haradarian had been laughing since he had first learned to laugh as a young babe of just a few turns.

The boy was always happy, he was always laughing, a deep contrast to his melancholic brother Rhaegar, who was always so serious and broody for one so very young.

Barristan remembered the sweet songs too, on guard, following the young Prince through the gardens or the godswood as the boy sung sweet, happy songs that lifted the hearts of all those who heard him as he picked flowers to take to his Mother.

Haradarian rarely ever cried and if he did, it was usually caused by pain. He would never forget when the little Prince, just five (or had he been six?) years old at the time, had fallen down the serpentine steps. His loud, hysterical cries had summoned the Kingsguard like moths to a flame, the four of them who had been in White Sword Tower, just opposite the serpentine steps over a courtyard, had dropped everything and had run to the wailing Prince, who was being fawned over by a fifth member of their sworn brotherhood, the one who had been guarding him at the time of his fall. Those huge green eyes had been screwed shut as fat tears fell without pause down chubby, red cheeks as the Prince held out his grazed hands for inspection, his knees and chin had been bleeding too he remembered, and Haradarian had howled his pain and tears as five grown men had tried to comfort him and get him to please just stop crying, to please go back to singing sweetly and smiling and laughing as always.

Those sweet smiles had never stopped, that sweet singing hadn’t stopped and even now, as a boy of one-and-ten, Prince Haradarian was always smiling, always laughing and singing, he was always so happy. He was special. He had been blessed from the very moment of his unexpected birth in The Great Sept of Baelor, the very gods had blessed him and he knew that Haradarian Targaryen, the first of his name, was going to do great and extraordinary things during his life. Those big, green eyes promised that it was so.

 

276AC – 277AC

 

Prince Haradarian ‘Harry’ Targaryen sat in the wooden stands with the other highborn Lords and Ladies who were in attendance, watching the games unfold before them. He was perched on a plump cushion, eagerly watching his older brother, Rhaegar, participate in the tourney at Lannisport. He was eleven years old and his older brother was just turned seventeen; he would be twelve on the next turn, long before Rhaegar turned eighteen.

The tourney was being held to celebrate their baby brother, Viserys’, birth three turns ago, early in the third moon of the year. Neither their Mother, Rhaella, nor their baby brother were present for the tourney, but Haradarian had been allowed to come with Rhaegar and their Father, King Aerys the second, though he was strictly only allowed to watch. He was too young, and far too skinny, as of yet to take part in a tourney, not even just the jousting. He would have been unhorsed with the first lance, he was certain of it, if not outright killed by the blow.

He was sat by the right side of his Father. The host of the tourney and the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister was sat to his Father’s other side, his two, ten year old children, Jaime and Cersei were at his side. He and his Father had two members of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Oswell Whent, stood directly behind them as Harry sat on his knees, holding onto the rail in front of him, cheering his brother on.

 

“Sit correctly, boy.” His Father barked at him and Harry sighed, sitting back on his bottom and dangling his skinny, twig like legs down towards the floor that he couldn’t yet touch.

 

His brother noticed his subdued demeanour and easily understood its cause and he walked right past the wooden stand on his horse and he stopped for a moment, right in front of him, and Harry darted up, bent over the rail and reached down to throw his arms around his brother’s neck.

 

“Win for me!” He declared fiercely. “And be safe!” He added almost as an afterthought.

 

Rhaegar laughed happily, his dark purple eyes glittering with happiness and mirth, his silver hair tied back to keep it out of his face as he jousted.

 

“I shall.” Rhaegar told him. “For you, brother.”

 

“Make sure your squires have tightened your armour. I don’t trust the little runts.” Harry sniffed.

 

“You should be my squire.” Rhaegar told him. “Though Myles and Richard are doing adequately.”

 

“I don’t want to be your squire.” Harry stated simply, stubbornly.

 

“You’ll never be a knight.” His brother warned him.

 

“I don’t want to be a knight. You know what I want to be.” Harry told him determinedly and Rhaegar looked a little uncomfortable at his declaration, but he touched Harry’s jet black hair gently and pushed it out of the way of his green eyes.

 

“I wish I’d never shared that prophecy with you.” He said quietly, for his ears only.

 

“I’m glad that you did. It gives me more time to prepare.” Harry replied easily. “Now go and win for me!”

 

Harry sat back down as Rhaegar trotted off on his horse and he curled his knees back under him, holding onto the rail again. He smiled as Rhaegar looked back at him and smiled that devastatingly handsome smile that Harry loved, the one that made all the women in the Seven Kingdoms swoon.

He wondered to himself if it was a weakness in the Targaryen bloodline that meant that they all fell in love with their own siblings or if it was just him, but he did love his older brother, very deeply, as more than just a brother. More so since Rhaegar had come to him years ago to tell him that he thought that he was spoken of in a prophecy. That he was the Prince who was promised. That he would, somehow, bring back a new age of the dragons, the last of which had been very stunted and sickly and had died over a hundred and fifty years before.

Harry had his own interpretation of the prophecy, he had studied the words of it at length, and he was certain that he needed his big brother by his side to bring back the dragons. The prophecy mentioned two ‘dragon breeders’, a pitch haired Prince and his silver haired rider. Him and Rhaegar.

It was of course, very common for Targaryens to wed brother to sister, their own parents, Aerys and Rhaella, were brother and sister and their parents, Jaehaerys and Shaera, Harry and Rhaegar’s grandparents, had been brother and sister too. The latter had married behind their Father, Aegon’s, back as they had fallen in love with one another, the former had been forced to marry each other by their parents to keep the blood of the dragon strong. But never had Targaryens, or anyone else for that matter, married brother to brother, it wouldn’t result in any children, and thus couldn’t preserve the blood of old Valyria.

But this prophecy, if the meaning was to be taken as literal, meant that he _could_ have children, that _he_ would be instrumental to bringing back the dragons, with his own body no less. Which would mean that he could have children. It was all very confusing, as the prophecy was thousands of years old and it written in High Valyrian too. It came from old Valyria, way before the Targaryens had gone to Dragonstone even, in order to escape the coming Doom prophesised by Daenys the Dreamer.

But he had told Rhaegar that he thought that the prophecy meant them both as soon as he’d thought of it, he pointed out that the prophecy mentioned the silver haired rider to mirror his black haired brother. Rhaegar had studied it at length himself, for weeks even, and with a very pale face, he’d come back to him and he’d agreed with his interpretation. Which meant that he and Rhaegar had to lie with one another like a man and a woman would. No other man would work, it had to be the silver haired Prince. His rider.

Rhaegar had held him off by saying that he was too young, that he was only a boy still and he would be until his sixteenth name day. So until then, they were still just brothers, yet that didn’t stop the heart from wanting what it wanted and Harry wanted Rhaegar and he suspected that his brother wanted him too, but didn’t want to admit it aloud, not yet, not while he was still so young.

Harry sighed and he bent right forward to rest his head on his hands so that he could better watch Rhaegar in his pitch black armour and his red cloak.

 

“Why are you not taking part, my Prince?” Cersei Lannister asked him politely.

 

Harry was forced to take his gaze from his beautiful brother to look at her, on the far side of the stand with three people between them, and answer her ridiculous questions instead.

 

“I am but one-and-ten.” Harry said simply. “It would be very unwise for me to take part, especially against Rhaegar. He’s going to win.”

 

“He is very impressive.”

 

Harry cut a sharp look at the ten year old girl and he took note of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes as she gazed at his brother and a spike of hideous jealousy stabbed at him. He wanted to rupture both of her eyeballs so that she couldn’t look upon Rhaegar. She didn’t deserve to look at him, only he could be with Rhaegar, no one else. He swallowed hard and he controlled himself. He was a member of the Royal family, he had to be better than everyone else.

 

“He is magnificent.” He countered easily.

 

“You seem very close to him.” Cersei’s younger twin brother, Jaime, told him.

 

Harry nodded easily in agreement. “I am. Are you not close to your sister?”

 

“We are, but you and Prince Rhaegar are not of an age together.” Jaime carried on.

 

“I am only five and a bit years younger than him. That is not such a large gap.” Harry brushed away blithely. “We enjoy much of the same things. It was he who taught me the high harp and High Valyrian and we practice with shield and sword on most days. We are hardly ever apart.” He said truthfully. “Now that Viserys is born too, when he’s older, he will join Rhaegar and I and we will teach him as Rhaegar has taught me.”

 

“Does Prince Viserys favour Prince Rhaegar or yourself?” Jaime asked and Harry saw both older men, his Father the King, and Lord Tywin, who were sat between him and the Heir of Casterly Rock, turn their heads to stare at the ten year old.

 

Lord Tywin looked aghast at the boy sat next to him, his Father looked angry. Harry’s ‘odd’ colouring was a very sore spot to be touched upon, he had even accused his Wife, Harry’s Mother, of infidelity. She had sworn on all Seven gods that it was not true, that Harry’s colouring was from further back in the Targaryen tree. Baelor Breakspear, she insisted, had been dark of hair and dark of eye and he was still a Targaryen, he had had a silver haired brother, Maekar, and his blood ran through all of their veins. It was not impossible, she implored, settling her brother and Husband down somewhat, but it was still a very sore, insecure spot for anyone to just prod at out of the blue, even just a curious ten year old boy.

 

“Prince Viserys favours Rhaegar. As a babe only three turns old his eyes are, as yet, still blue, but I’m sure that they’ll turn purple in the coming weeks.” Harry answered easily. “I’m just very special.” He continued with a smile. “I was born in the Great Sept of Baelor on the holy day of the Mother and my colouring marks me for a higher purpose, it was fated that I would be born and that I would have a silver haired brother beside me. There have been black haired Targaryens before me, as there will be after me. It is not so unusual.”

 

He turned back to smile at Rhaegar, who was indeed getting his armour checked over by his squires and that pleased him greatly, that Rhaegar listened to him and valued his opinions. His brother’s decorated black stallion was stood still by his side, dressed in red to give the illusion of the sigil of their house, in their house colours, and as he watched Rhaegar talking, his mouth moving, Harry subtly licked his lips, his tongue not coming out to do so, instead he rolled his lips into his mouth to lick at them, as he watched his strong, beautiful brother.

He wanted to be his brother’s bride and he didn’t care what anyone else thought of his wants and wishes. He was a Prince, Rhaegar was the crown Prince and they were above the comments and thoughts of the smallfolk and even the Lords of the realm.

He looked to his Father for a moment and he took in a deep breath and looked back to Rhaegar. His brother would make a better King than the one sat beside him. Rhaegar had confided in him of his plan to try and get their Father to hand over the crown and Harry fully agreed. Aerys the second had had his time and he was little more than a paranoid, old man who was prone to bouts of erratic madness and an overprotectiveness that was stifling. He was becoming unstable. Rhaegar would be a better King and Harry would be King beside him, as his bride.

He sighed happily at his daydreaming and he once again put his arms on the rail and bent forward, bottom in the air as he bent forward on his knees to better see Rhaegar.

 

“Sit properly!” His Father commanded. “You are a Prince, not a commoner of Flea Bottom.”

 

He wished that his Father had not come as he once again sat down primly and properly. King Aerys had originally refused to come as Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, was hosting the tourney and as of late they were not getting along very well. He wished that he was brave enough to say something, but Rhaegar had coached him in his youth to hold his tongue with such delicate matters. He said that sometimes it wasn’t brave to always say what was on his mind, but more intelligent to stop and think things through first and decide that it was not wise to say such things aloud.

So he took Rhaegar’s lessons to heart and he smiled politely, biting his tongue so that no words would slip past and he said nothing. He put his back straight, his shoulders back, his hands in his lap and he tucked his ankles together as his feet didn’t yet touch the floor and it was seen as ‘common’ to let his legs swing back and forth. He tucked them in tight, his knees pressed together to fight the natural urge to kick them back and forth under his chair with his excitement.

He looked like a maiden this way and he hated it. All small and slender and delicate, he’d looked into a mirror, he knew what he looked like with his black hair haloed around his head in a mass of tufts that didn’t lie flat or stay straight and his large, green eyes and delicately featured face. It was why he wore his hair short, unlike Rhaegar, who wore his hair long, just below his broad shoulders. If he had worn his hair long, he truly would have looked like a maiden.

His garb didn’t help matters either, a black silk doublet that had long, tight sleeves and was inlaid with rubies to form his house sigil of a three headed dragon on the breast that was cinched at the waist and paired with tight black breeches with soft leather ankle boots that were folded over and studded to the back of his heel with two large rubies to each boot, one on either side of his ankles. It was too warm to wear his flame red cloak, so he’d left it off.

He wished that he was as tall and handsome as Rhaegar, who was so masculine despite being beautiful too, that he could wear his hair long, but he wasn’t. He was small, dainty and ‘pretty’ more than anything else. Beautiful, Rhaegar called him. He loved it when Rhaegar called him beautiful, it made him feel warm and happy. Very loved and appreciated by his big brother, who was also called beautiful by the people of the Seven Kingdoms.

He cheered on Rhaegar for the first day of the jousting, where his brother had unhorsed the two Lannister starting champions, Tygett and Gerion, Tywin’s younger brothers. He was perversely pleased about this after Jaime had questioned him as such and the girl, Cersei, had started fluttering her eyes at _his_ brother. His future Husband.

Rhaegar rode around the tourney grounds in victory as that day’s winner before dismounting his huge black destrier and Harry stood and he took measured steps under his Father’s heavy gaze, down from the wooden stands and he hurried over to Rhaegar, who was mud splattered and triumphant in his pitch black armour.

 

“Haradarian.” He said happily as he caught sight of him, throwing an arm around him and hugging him close carefully, so as not to dirty Harry’s clothing.

 

“You were amazing!” He said happily as he craned his head back and peered happily up into Rhaegar’s dark, indigo eyes.

 

Rhaegar cupped his cheek before moving his hand up into his hair and he ruffled it.

 

“Let me get out of this muddied armour and get dressed, we’ll talk more over the feast.”

 

Harry nodded, but he followed his brother into his champion’s tent with his youngest squire, Myles Mooton. He sat in a chair and watched happily as Rhaegar had his armour carefully removed and then had his sweat dampened and muddied clothes stripped until he was wearing just his linen smallclothes.

 

“Leave us, Myles.” Rhaegar said simply. “I can clean and dress myself.”

 

“Yes, my Prince.” Myles said respectful, before he nodded and hurried out, brushing the tent flaps as he did so.

 

Harry made sure that they had fallen back into place, just the merest slit of light to be seen between them, before he smiled, and now alone, he blatantly let his eyes rove over his brother’s muscular frame. He licked his lips again, this time, he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing and he did it obviously, so that Rhaegar couldn’t miss the action.

 

“Stop it.” Rhaegar cautioned him. “Such a look on your young face is conflicting me. We _must_ wait until you are at least fourteen, Harry.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with looking upon your bared body in such a way, I am twelve upon the next turn and I appreciate the view.” He said with a smile. “If I am to be your bride, it’s only natural that I get to see you bare.”

 

“Shh!” Rhaegar said hurriedly. “Guard your tongue, brother!”

 

Harry just continued to smile, though the intensity of it dropped off a little, and he stood up to approach his brother. He let his hand run teasingly over the muscles of Rhaegar’s stomach and then moved around to his back. He pushed his hands up that strong back to Rhaegar’s strong, broad shoulders before he slipped them back down and wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing his face to his brother’s back and he sighed sadly. Rhaegar’s body was perfect, truly a work of art and crafted out by hard work and even harder training.

 

“I hate it when you shout at me.” He said quietly.

 

“I…I did not mean to upset you, Harry.” Rhaegar said softly, sincerely, placing both of his own hands over Harry’s on his stomach. “But we must be careful. Only for the next few years, until we’re married. They can’t do anything when we’re married. No one can force us to marry another if we are married together and only Father can null our marriage and only if he still sits the Iron Throne.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. I should not have said such things aloud where others could hear. I’m sorry.”

 

Rhaegar turned around and wrapped him up in his arms, kissing his brow gently.

 

“You are still only young, Haradarian, such things are to be expected and it was unfair of me to be so sharp with you, let us put it behind us and be more careful in the future. Come now, I need to dress.”

 

Harry let go of Rhaegar with an unhappy sigh and he went to pour himself and his brother some wine as Rhaegar washed himself off with a cloth and a bowl of water before he dressed himself in his Princely finery.

Harry handed Rhaegar a goblet of wine and he sat back in his chair, savouring his own.

 

“I saw how you were sitting.” Rhaegar told him with a smile. “You almost put me off of my stride.” He chuckled.

 

Harry blushed pink. “I did not mean to. It is simply more comfortable to me.”

 

“Or so you say, I can see the appeal, but find no comfort in it.”

 

“You’ve tried, haven’t you?” Harry laughed.

 

“Silence you.” Rhaegar smiled at him adoringly.

 

The two of them finished their wine before they had to leave the tent and go and socialise with the other Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Harry stuck close to Rhaegar’s side.

 

“Watch out for Lord Tywin’s daughter, Cersei.” Harry warned quietly. “I almost ripped her blonde hair out of her head when I saw the way she was looking at you.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled. “You are the only one for me.” His brother told him quietly. “No one will be able to turn my head now that I have you. We will be married, we will have children and we will usher in a new age of the dragons.”

 

“I suppose we could always adopt Viserys as our son.” Harry said thoughtfully.

 

“If he lives.” Rhaegar sighed, eluding to their one stillborn sister and their four dead baby brothers, one of whom had been stillborn and the other three, Daeron, Aegon and Jaehaerys, who had all lived for less than a year. All of their dead siblings were younger than the two of them, but between Rhaegar and Harry were two miscarriages and there had been another miscarriage six years after Harry had been born between their brother Daeron and their brother Aegon.

 

“No matter, if he doesn’t, we can adopt the child of one of the other Lords, perhaps a second son, and we’ll raise him as ours.”

 

“The prophecy says that we’ll be able to have our own children.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“It’s too unclear, I’m not as sure as you are on High Valyrian, it’s a very difficult language to read. I don’t really understand what it means. It seemed to me like we’d only have baby dragons.”

 

“The dragons shall have babes.” Rhaegar quoted loosely. “With you and I being the dragons, we’ll be able to have children together, Haradarian. I don’t know how, but we will, we’ll find a way, but we do not need to think of such things just yet, not for another couple of years.”

 

Harry nodded, more settled and he followed Rhaegar into Casterly Rock through the entrance known as The Lion’s Mouth and they made their way to the Great Hall. From there he had to try and ignore the way that the daughters, sisters, nieces and even the wives of the Lords come to Lannisport for the tourney sidled up to his big brother and tried to seduce him, for marriage or even for just the one night, none of them cared as long as they got the dragonseed. Rhaegar was all smiles and laughs, but Harry bit his tongue and he smiled too. He knew that his brother loved only him, as he loved only Rhaegar. This posturing was necessary, they were Princes and it was expected of them to be in high demand and completely social at such events, especially as they were both so private and closed off outside of such public events. They liked to keep themselves to themselves, and to each other, but at such public events, they were considered public property and they had to deal with this attention, with this demand for their conversation or talents. It was exhausting, and at times annoying, but it was one of their duties as Princes and they had to smile through it and put aside their own feelings for those of their people.

It was very amusing, however, to watch Rhaegar’s face when one young woman, a pretty maid born of Hightower, though he recalled correctly that she had married the Heir of Highgarden several years ago, approached Harry and tried to stand practically on top of him as she engaged him in conversation. Obviously she didn’t fancy her chances with Rhaegar, who was all but surrounded by women and girls, and instead she chose the second best option, the second born Prince who wasn’t in such high demand as he was seen as too young for such flirtations and thus was easier to get closer to. She was the first person to ever try to flirt with him and it was equal parts amusing and disturbing to him, as he’d never been subjected to such attentions before. But Harry rather thought, from the look on his brother’s face, that Rhaegar was going to lop her head off with the decorative dagger that he always kept on his belt.

 

“It’s Alerie, isn’t it?” Harry asked politely, rather liking that Rhaegar was getting a taste of his own medicine for once.

 

He didn’t often get much attention from the ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, as he was still just a young, pretty boy who looked more like a maiden himself, especially next to his big brother, and it was always Rhaegar that they fawned over. Tall, handsome and muscular with his silver hair and deep purple eyes and brooding personality, it helped him that he was also a very talented jouster, a highly skilled musician and highly learned and intelligent too. He was hardly ever without a book or some ancient scroll to hand, it had been how he’d found the ancient prophecy from Valyria in the first place. But he was every woman’s fantasy come to life and they flocked to him.

 

“Alerie Tyrell? Daughter of Lord Leyton and Lady Rhea Hightower and wife of Lord Mace Tyrell, you have a son together, Willas if I recall.” He asked politely, but of course he recalled perfectly. He knew all of these Lords and Ladies and he knew personally of young Willas Tyrell. He liked the small boy.

 

The maid blushed brightly and she nodded. “Yes, my Prince.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you enjoying the tourney thus far?” He inquired politely.

 

She nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, my Prince. I was disappointed to learn that you would not be participating.”

 

Harry smiled easily and watched as she blushed a brighter shade of red.

 

“Alas, I am still a shade too young for my Mother and Father’s liking, Alerie. I may call you Alerie?”

 

The maid nodded happily, looking like she was going to swoon at his feet. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as bad at this socialising as he’d first thought he was.

 

“I have been told that I am not to participate until I have passed my fourteenth name day. My Father also dislikes the thought of Rhaegar and I participating at the same time, just in case something happens to us both.”

 

Alerie Tyrell clung onto his every word as if it were law and Harry rather liked the experience, he liked it even more when Rhaegar excused himself from the crowd of women around him and came over and settled a large, possessive hand on his lower back, his strong fingers making their presence known by pressing in firmly.  

 

“Haradarian, we must be seated with our Father.” Rhaegar said sternly, leaving no room for disagreement.

 

Harry smiled, it seemed that Rhaegar had had enough of Alerie Tyrell talking to him.

 

“Of course, Rhaegar. Forgive us please, Alerie.”

 

The girl nodded, having been robbed of her ability to speak, either from prolonged contact talking to him, or more likely because of Rhaegar’s appearance, but he didn’t know and he didn’t ask. He didn’t much care with Rhaegar’s hand on him, steering him towards the top table where they were to be seated with their Father and the Lannisters.

As soon as the Kingsguard saw them, two members strode over to escort them to the table, which made it easier for them to get through the crowd of women and girls. Once they made it safely to the table Rhaegar sat in the chair next to their Father and Harry sat next to Rhaegar. Lord Tywin was to the other side of the King and his two children were to the side of him, Jaime first, despite his daughter being older. All male heirs were seated before daughters.

Harry took a deep drink of his goblet of water before he joined in the feast which was being served before them by blushing, staring servant girls.

 

“She was a married woman, Haradarian.” Rhaegar told him under his breath.

 

“I know. I was just talking to her.” Harry answered as he pulled a piece of chicken apart and popped a chunk of it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “It’s never stopped you before if they were married or not.”

 

“I don’t encourage them!” Rhaegar said sternly.

 

“I said and did nothing encouraging to her, she’s married and I like her son, Willas. He might only be a boy of two, but he is very bright, he’s walking properly and he’s talking, I was amazed. I might take him as a squire.”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to be a knight.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“I don’t, that doesn’t mean that I won’t be.”

 

“Then become my squire. I will knight you, you know that I will.”

 

Harry sighed. “Brother, you are frightfully intelligent, but sometimes I wonder when you say such stupid things. You should know why I don’t want to be _your_ squire!”

 

Rhaegar fell silent and Harry recognised his brooding silence. He was thinking…hard. That made his heart throb with love. Rhaegar didn’t brush aside his thoughts or feelings, he cared for him and he would sit here and think about it until he came to the realisation that Harry did not want to be inferior to him, he wanted them to always be equals. He would be his brother’s bride, but he would not suffer to become a mere woman. He was not now, nor would he ever be, a woman. They would be equals, two Kings, not one above the other. He wouldn’t stand for anything less.

He ate and drank his fill, he smiled and clapped politely at the performers, musicians and singers and then Rhaegar was hounded to play his harp by the guests. His brother did not look very impressed to have his brooding interrupted, but he put his personal feelings behind him as he picked up his gold, silver stringed high harp and plucked a few of the strings to loosen his fingers and then he stood, just in front of the high table, facing the guests below him and he played the saddest song that Harry had ever heard him play. It was obviously a representation of how Rhaegar was currently feeling and he hated that he had saddened his brother so much as he was almost moved to tears by the sad song played out masterfully on the beautiful high harp. Rhaegar was so incredibly talented, he would never be able to compare to his older brother.

A quiet sniff had Harry turning and spotting Lord Lannister’s daughter, Cersei, crying her eyes out. Most of the other ladies in the hall were also crying, but when Rhaegar had finished, taken a small bow, and come back to his seat, it was Harry’s shoulder that he touched, Harry’s hair that he ruffled. It was Harry he looked at, no one else.

 

“I understand.” He said simply. “You will not be my squire, but if you wish, I could find someone to take you as their squire in my stead.”

 

Harry smiled joyously at Rhaegar and he fleetingly touched his brother’s knee with just the top joint of his fingers, not his whole hand lest someone see.

 

“Thank you for understanding, Rhaegar.” Harry said softly. “I did not mean to upset you, but I cannot be lesser than you are.”

 

“I do understand.” Rhaegar said firmly. “I never wanted you to be lesser, or for you to ever feel such a way. We are equals, my brother, and we always will be.”

 

Harry smiled and, his heart buoyed, he stood to play his own harp, as black as Rhaegar’s armour, the strings the same silver as those on his brother’s harp and he played from his heart, a very pleasant, joyous song that made him smile, even as he had his eyes closed so that he could focus on his feelings and his fingers floating over the strings to form a light, happy melody.

It was a long, upbeat song and he filled it with his love for Rhaegar, his happiness and joy before he finished slowly on a lingering high note. He stood still and silent for a moment, he took a deep breath, inclined his head to the applauding crowd and then he moved to sit back next to Rhaegar.

He was not as good a musician as Rhaegar, but he was better at singing than his brother as Rhaegar had found that he didn’t have the voice for singing now that he was older, but he was passable with the high harp as Rhaegar had taught him himself.

 

“That was beautiful.” Rhaegar complimented him.

 

Harry smiled. “I had to make up for your gloomy song.”

 

Rhaegar smiled. “I was feeling unhappy when I played.”

 

“After what you said to me, I was feeling very happy.” Harry finished.

 

The feast carried on easily and so did the rest of the tourney. The next day Rhaegar defeated four more knights, the day after he fought valiantly and defeated three more knights and on the day after that, he toppled another three. Before long it was the last day of jousting and Harry was, naturally, once again sat in the crowd, wearing black velvet this time, the three headed red dragon of house Targaryen took up his entire chest in red embroidery and he was wearing his favourite black leather boots with the rubies at the side of each ankle bone. They were the only boots that he’d ever wear if given the choice.

He watched happily as his big brother toppled knight after knight, their lances breaking numerous times as they both kept their horses. Then Rhaegar faced off against Ser Barristan Selmy and Harry was worried for the first time. Ser Barristan was a formidable opponent and as the second to last tilt, he had more than proved himself in this tourney.

 

“Knock him off, Rhaegar!” He called out happily, stood up and bending right over the rail so that his brother could hear him.

 

Rhaegar turned to look at him and smiled, giving him a small wave. Harry grinned easily and waved back. He almost giggled as he lifted his feet off the floor by taking his weight onto his hands and pushing himself up and further over the rail to better see Rhaegar.

 

“My Prince!” Prince Lewyn Martell called out and almost dived over the back of Harry’s chair to grip the back of his doublet, just in case he fell.

 

Harry laughed. “I’m alright.” He said cheerily, though from the look on Rhaegar’s ashen face he had been just as worried at his antics as the Kingsguard were.

 

Prince Lewyn Martell of Dorne was a member of the Kingsguard and instead of becoming Ser Lewyn Martell, despite being a very able knight, he remained as Prince instead, but he did his job admirably, even putting himself and his body on the line just the same as his six other sworn brothers, as he proved when he subtly rubbed his ribs from where he’d bruised them against the wooden chair he’d thrown himself on to grab a hold of Harry.   

Overall Harry was glad that his Father was not here today. He had left the tourney grounds yesterday afternoon and today, he hadn’t even bothered coming, so Harry wasn’t oppressed under his thumb and he could sit and behave how he pleased.

Lord Tywin didn’t look very happy either, he noted from the corner of his eye. It was hardly surprising really, because if Harry fell or so much as scraped a knee, King Aerys would definitely hold Lord Tywin responsible, but Harry was still a Prince and a mere Lord couldn’t tell him what to do, not even the Hand of the King or the host of the tourney.

 

“Be more careful, my Prince.” Prince Lewyn told him, patting his shoulder.

 

“Okay.” Harry said with a grin. “Come on, Rhaegar!” He yelled out a moment later.

 

He watched eagerly as the two men took up their tourney lances from their squires and Harry’s heart was almost in his throat as the two horses charged at one another. They passed by without incident, both lances broken and as the horses trotted back to their respective ends, Myles Mooton was readying another lance for Rhaegar to take for the next charge.

It was fast paced, but the afternoon started slipping away with every pass and every broken lance with no winner. Harry screamed his throat hoarse for Rhaegar, all but beaming at his brother with every small pause the two knights took for a few swallows of water handed to them quickly by their attentive squires. Rhaegar always looked at him in the stands at every break and it made Harry want to kiss him.

It was only after nine broken lances apiece that Rhaegar finally managed to unhorse Ser Barristan Selmy by pure chance and Harry leapt up and screamed his happiness, all but jumping up and down in his excited joy.

 

“Well done, Rhaegar!” He yelled loudly.

 

His brother heard him and he turned his head. He wheeled his horse around and he came to the railing, taking off his helm as he did so. Harry bent back over the railing and wrapped his skinny arms around his neck.

 

“I’m so proud of you.” He declared. “So proud!”

 

Rhaegar laughed and pulled him right over the rail and into his lap, sitting Harry in front of him. Harry squeaked at the move and then laughed as he turned and sat astride the horse as he was meant to. It meant that he was sat right in Rhaegar’s lap…if only his brother wasn’t wearing such heavy armour. Harry remembered vividly when he did this back in Kings Landing only a few turns ago, when Rhaegar had been wearing only thin breeches. Rhaegar hadn’t put him in his lap like that since. Harry grinned at the memory and let out an evil chuckle.

 

“You’re remembering that day, aren’t you?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

Harry laughed louder. “You know that I am. It seems that you are too.”

 

“We wait until you’re fourteen.” He said sternly and he said it as if it were a mantra. As if he needed to remind himself that they had to wait until he was fourteen too.

 

“I know, I know. We could have our first child in a couple of years though. I like thinking about it, imagining what they’re going to be like, if they’ll look exactly like you. How my pregnancy might progress and how I’ll handle it.”

 

Harry heard Rhaegar’s breath hitch and his brother’s arm tightened on his chest as he stopped his horse by his tent and then swung himself down and caught Harry around the waist as he did the same.

Harry was set on his feet and he soaked up the roaring, cheering atmosphere. There would be just one more bout and Harry swallowed at the next listing, because it was Rhaegar against Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. The most formidable knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Harry followed Rhaegar into his champion’s tent as Ser Barristan Selmy’s was taken down and replaced with Ser Arthur Dayne’s in a timely fashion. Harry peeked out to watch them working as Rhaegar drained several cups of water and switched his clothes before donning his armour once more, helped quickly by his very efficient squires, Myles Mooton and Richard Lonmouth. Harry’s face fell when he saw King Aerys making his way to his seat in the crowd, Ser Oswell on guard behind him.

 

“Father has come to watch the final tilt.” He told Rhaegar.

 

“I was wondering where he’d went, he’s been enjoying the tourney thus far, despite initially not wanting to come.”

 

“You know that he didn’t want to come because he didn’t want to sit next to Lord Lannister. He doesn’t want to talk to him or be seen with him either, he’s suspicious of Lord Tywin, the real ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.” Harry snorted.

 

“That Ilyn Payne had his tongue ripped out for that slur against our family.” Rhaegar reminded him.

 

“So he should have!” Harry replied angrily. “I would have taken his teeth and lips too.”

 

“That is because you are completely without mercy, my little brother.”

 

Harry scoffed. “Mercy, for such a man as to slur our family? _Nothing_ is as important to me as family. Mother, Father, you and Viserys.” He said simply. “I hold love for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, brother, but none for one such a man as to slur our family.”

 

Rhaegar considered his words carefully, before he nodded. “You are right, of course, sweet Haradarian. I believe I feel the same way. I suppose this makes me as merciless as you.”

 

Harry chuckled. “We are not completely without mercy, Rhaegar. But if one cannot defend the honour of their own house, one has no business ruling the other houses. It is imperative that we uphold the Targaryen honour and such slurs are ruinous to our reputation. It cannot ever be allowed to stand or to go unpunished.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and he touched his back gently. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget how young you are when you speak like an ancient Maester.”

 

Harry turned, catching sight of Rhaegar’s squires and he stood back a step, putting some unwanted distance between them. He made a show of checking out his brother, taking in his armour, his tall, broad body and that beautiful face.

 

“Newly knighted and already up to the champion’s tilt. I hope that I’ll become as fine a knight as you one day, brother.”

 

“You won’t be anything if you don’t squire for someone.”

 

Harry did his almost giggle again. “You’re a knight now, Rhaegar. You could knight me right now and it would be binding.”

 

Rhaegar laughed. “I could, but I won’t. If you want to be a knight, you will be a squire first, as all knights have been before you. As _I_ was before you.”

 

Harry sighed. “Following the arse of some stuck up, saggy goat who thinks he has even half a chance of being a member of the Kingsguard and will take huge pleasure in ordering me around like a servant.” Harry sighed heavier. “Maybe I don’t want to be a knight after all. I might go and forge some links for a Maester’s chain instead. “

 

“You want to become a Maester?” Rhaegar actually looked betrayed and Harry touched his bare hand gently.

 

“No, not a Maester, I just want to forge some links. Prince Lewyn was telling me of his youngest nephew, Oberyn, who went and forged a few links without becoming a Maester. I could do the same.”

 

“You want to be away from me?” Rhaegar asked sadly.

 

Harry pulled his brother’s head down. “It would only be for a year or so and only if Father allows it. I’m most interested in medicine. It might help with birthing our children, I don’t have the right parts, Rhaegar. It might help us stick to the minimum age too if I weren’t here to tempt you.” He said with a pointed look.

 

“I’d miss you.” Rhaegar said, utterly devastated.

 

“I’d miss you more than words could ever describe, Rhaegar. I love you.” He said under his breath. “But I can’t keep my hands from you. I want you, even now. If you didn’t continually stop me, I’d have already lain with you. I don’t want to wait another minute, though I know that we must. I’d be back before you know it and it’s only if Father allows.”

 

“I will speak to him myself if need be. If it’s something that you want to do, I will see that you get to do it.”

 

Harry smiled. “It won’t be for long, Rhaegar. I won’t take any oaths, I will not become a Maester proper, I just want to learn.”

 

Rhaegar sighed. “Well, how can I stop you?”

 

“You can’t, but Father can.”

 

“My Prince, are you ready?” A voice called loudly from outside.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry to have brought this up now, you need to concentrate.” Harry said worriedly.

 

“I am newly knighted, this is one tilt that I am like to lose.” Rhaegar smiled. “I got lucky in the tilt against Ser Barristan, I am not like to do the same with Ser Arthur. I’ll be happy if I stay seated after the first charge.”

 

“I am still very, very proud of you. Remember that.” Harry said firmly. “Do your best, Rhaegar. I’ll be in the stands, cheering you on.”

 

“I saw you every time I wheeled around, you kept me trying even harder than the last lance.”

 

Harry grinned. “I’d kiss you for luck if we were alone.” He said before turning and leaving Rhaegar’s tent. He heard his brother cursing behind him and he giggled, making his way back up to his chair.

 

“Father, you’ve come!” He said happily. “Rhaegar has done so well!”

 

His Father smiled at him and pulled him into a short kiss, which surprised Harry. His Father was not entirely without love. In fact he loved them all so much, he just loved Harry less than Rhaegar and Viserys, because of his black hair and green eyes. His Father must have been in a very good mood to show such public affection towards him.

 

“I have been told that he has reached the champion’s tilt. I had to come and cheer him on.” Aerys said, ignoring Lord Tywin on his other side, even going so far as to turn slightly more towards Harry, putting his back to the Lord of Lannister and his two oldest children.

 

Ser Oswell Whent was stood beside Prince Lewyn Martell once more, behind his Father, and Harry sat primly on his cushion, smiling proudly as Rhaegar emerged from his tent looking splendid in his pitch black armour and the red painted three headed dragon of house Targaryen over his chest.

Harry cheered along with his Father for Rhaegar, but after twelve broken lances apiece, Rhaegar toppled from his horse and he landed very hard on his back. He did not move to get up, or at all. Harry gasped and he was up before the crowd could shout in surprise. He ran to Rhaegar, getting to him just as his two squires did and it was he who unbuckled Rhaegar’s helm and pulled it off of his very still brother as gently as he could.

His heart pounded in relief as he saw Rhaegar’s dark purple eyes looking up at him, a little dazedly, blinking rapidly, but he was alive and that was better than what Harry had been thinking a moment before.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked a little tearfully.

 

Rhaegar chuckled, a little breathlessly as he was winded, but Harry took it as a good sign.

 

“I’m alright.” His brother told him. “Just a little winded, that was a hard fall.”

 

“Can you stand, Rhaegar?” Their Father asked, having immediately moved to where Rhaegar lay, but at a calmer pace than Harry’s flighty run.

 

“Try sitting up first.” Harry encouraged, helping Rhaegar to ease himself upright.

 

Ser Arthur Dayne, instead of celebrating, had come charging over to check on Rhaegar when he hadn’t immediately stood up or moved after falling. As a member of the Kingsguard, it went directly against his oath to have harmed a member of the royal family. Harry had no idea what happened to a member of the Kingsguard who killed a member of the royal family as it had never happened before, but he assumed torture and then death, accident or no.

It was Ser Arthur who helped tug Rhaegar back to his feet and the crowd cheered happily, and with no small amount of relief too, that their favourite Prince was unharmed. Rhaegar smiled and waved, walking unaided and Harry breathed out heavily in relief himself. He would have gone completely mad if he’d watched his love die before him like that.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

There was no celebratory feast to mark the end of the tourney jousting that night. Harry didn’t really understand what had happened, but his Father had gone from happy, proud and even excited, to being worried about Rhaegar, relieved that he was truly fine and unharmed and then back to happy again and then he’d become very, very angry. He had stormed into the solar, connecting the rooms that Lord Tywin had given them for the tourney, and he’d told them to pack their belongings immediately and be ready to leave at day break, he had then disappeared again with two members of the Kingsguard. He and Rhaegar had been woken up before daybreak and King Aerys had taken them both, as well as the Kingsguard, from Casterly Rock and they had started the trek back to Kings Landing the very next morning, before the sun had even fully risen.

Harry was almost asleep in the saddle of his palfrey, he had wound the reins around his wrists, just in case he did fall. He had been up late that night, trying yet again to find ‘Lord Tywin’s Bane’…his dwarf son, Tyrion. He’d never seen a dwarf before and he was so very curious and he knew that the boy had to be at Casterly Rock, but he hadn’t been able to find the three year old, not even the hint of a room for the grotesque and he’d really wanted to see him before he’d left. He yawned again and slumped further in his saddle.

The next he knew he was falling and someone grabbed the top of his arm and hauled him hard, another hand touching his waist as that arm wound around him to tug him onto another horse. He blinked and he turned his head to look at Ser Gwayne Gaunt’s rather unimpressed face. He was sitting sideways on the knight’s lap, having been plonked there to prevent him from falling and most likely breaking something or even braining himself on a rock.

 

“Thank you, Ser.” He said sleepily, rubbing his gritty feeling eyes.

 

“Are you alright?” Rhaegar thundered over to ask, wheeling his horse about to ride next to them, so close that his knees knocked into Harry’s lower legs.

 

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

 

“What were you doing last night when you were supposed to be sleeping?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

 

“None of your business.” Harry said.

 

“You weren’t sowing some dragonseed in Lord Tywin’s daughter, were you?” Rhaegar teased, knowing as he did how strongly Harry disliked the ten year old girl.

 

“That’s disgusting!” Harry complained loudly, completely aghast at the mere suggestion, much to the amusement of Rhaegar and the few Kingsguard members who could hear them and weren’t up ahead with the King.

 

Rhaegar laughed happily. “I suppose it is still a little soon for you to start making bastards.”

 

“I’m not ever going to have a bastard child. I won’t live through the shame of it. All of my children are going to be with the one I marry. I swear it now, before all the gods with you as my witness.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with practising beforehand, Haradarian.” Rhaegar told him with a kind smile.  

 

Harry considered that seriously. “Practice is one thing, making bastards is entirely another.” He said firmly. “I want no bastards to my name.”

 

Rhaegar looked at him and nodded, understanding that Harry was talking to him just as much. Neither of them would have bastard children.

 

“I suppose painting the back of them with dragonseed will be just as satisfying.”

 

Harry blinked. “What?” He asked, not understanding.

 

Of course his brother and the Kingsguard laughed at him again, all except Barristan Selmy, who looked strangely proud.

Harry huffed before he settled in against Ser Gwayne Gaunt and he yawned widely before he curled up as comfortably as he could in the other’s lap and, uncaring of what he looked like or what anyone else thought, he went to sleep. He really needed it after his late night searching Casterly Rock while avoiding the guards, the servants and especially the Kingsguard. He wondered again where Tywin had kept his dwarf son while the tourney was being hosted at Lannisport and he wondered if he’d actually been in the dungeons. Surely not even Tywin Lannister would have locked a three year old up in a dungeon, but Harry truly had not been able to find him and not through lack of trying either. He’d only been curious, he’d never seen a dwarf before and he wanted to meet one. Perhaps one day he would get the chance to meet young Tyrion Lannister, but the opportunity had passed him by this time as they headed back to Kings Landing from the tourney earlier than had been planned.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

It was only several days later, after they’d arrived back at Kings Landing, that Harry learned what had upset their Father on the last night of their stay in Casterly Rock as he raged and ranted to his sister-wife while they supped together in the royal solar.

 

“How dare he think that I’d marry my Heir, my Rhaegar, to my servant’s daughter?!” He complained as he tore at a loaf of bread as if it were a living creature. “My Rhaegar and that stupid girl of his! As if she is the least bit worthy of the blood of the dragon.” He laughed, a short, angry and harsh sound. “Trying to tell me that it’s time that my son settled down and married, as if it’s any business of his!”

 

Harry shared a panicked look with Rhaegar, who was as calm and as peaceful as ever. He’d known that this would be an issue, that Rhaegar, at seventeen, was going to be expected to marry and start having Heirs of his own. If only he had been born closer to Rhaegar, then they might already be married. There wasn’t anything that anyone could do when they were married.

 

“Then…then do you know what he said? He told me that our Haradarian needed to marry! That Haradarian and his daughter were of a similar age.” King Aerys carried on, oblivious to the uncomfortable silence around him as everyone tried to eat. “I reject his daughter, not once, but twice! I told him that he was an able servant, but that I would not be marrying my sons, my _Princes_ , to my servant’s daughter!”

 

“Haradarian is far too young to be thinking of marriage.” Their mother agreed as she rocked their baby brother. “What next, is he going to suggest that you marry off our Viserys to someone of his liking too?”

 

King Aerys looked at the babe and scoffed. “I’ve had enough of that man. I should never have gone to that tourney, as I’d planned in the beginning. He wasn’t holding it to celebrate my son’s birth, he was using Viserys as an excuse to try and swindle a marriage for his daughter to my sons! No, my sons will marry properly, I have no daughter for Rhaegar, so we’ll have to find a woman suitable for him. Rhaella, we must try for a daughter to be Haradarian’s wife.”

 

Harry swallowed and he sent another wide eyed, panicked look to Rhaegar, trying to beg his brother to do something, but Rhaegar was eating just as peacefully, as if he couldn’t hear their Father’s rantings. He did notice Ser Barristan standing at attention a few paces away from the table however, watching him, and Harry tried to school his panic and smoothen his expression into something more neutral. He needed to learn to control his emotions and his facial expressions better, or else he could put himself, and others, in danger.

Rhaegar had the right of things however, their Father did nothing. He did not call for all maidens in the Seven Kingdoms to be brought before Rhaegar. He did not mention it again since that one rant at Tywin Lannister’s gall to suggest his own daughter for Rhaegar and then for Harry after being rejected and he relaxed a little as he rested on Rhaegar’s chest in a small, stolen moment in the dead of the night.

 

“I’m so worried that I’ll lose you before my fourteenth name day.” He said sadly.

 

“You won’t, Haradarian. Father isn’t about to marry me to anyone who he sees as unworthy and as he sees all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms as servants, he won’t marry either of us to their daughters. He’ll send someone to Essos to find Valyrian blood for me to marry to keep the dragon blood pure and even if he and Mother do have a daughter, it is going to be years before she is flowered and ready for marriage and children. We do not need to worry so much.”

 

Harry nodded and he swallowed, slipping his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and tightening his thighs around Rhaegar’s waist as his brother stroked his back gently through Harry’s sleeping tunic.

 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, you’re too young.” Rhaegar sighed, but he made no move to dislodge Harry from his perch on his chest.

 

“I know. I was just so worried, Rhaegar.” Harry said softly, squeezing tighter for a moment. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to marry my sister, I want to marry you.”

 

“We don’t have a sister.” Rhaegar chuckled. “Only Viserys.”

 

“Maybe if we marry each other he can marry any sisters we have.” Harry said thoughtfully.

 

“Maybe by the time that we have a sister, it won’t matter and they can marry whom they please.” Rhaegar told him.

 

Harry smiled. “Perhaps, but I won’t have anyone interfering, Rhaegar. I love you.”

 

“I love you as well, Haradarian.” Rhaegar told him, placing a kiss to his brow. “Are you still thinking of going to Oldtown?”

 

Harry nodded silently. “I don’t want to be apart from you, of course not, but all I want is to marry you, right now. Today, so that no one else can.” He sighed. “I need a large distraction and perhaps some distance so that if it does not distract me adequately, I can’t come and touch you like this.”

 

“Will you wait until after your name day?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Another turn won’t make much difference. I’ll stay for my twelfth name day. Then I’ll go to Oldtown if Father allows.”

 

“He should, he has Viserys and I here to secure the bloodline and perhaps more children here after if Mother and Father are trying for a daughter.”

 

“He’s obsessive of poor Viserys as it is. I can’t believe that he has his food taster suckling the wet nurse before he’ll allow Viserys to feed. I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he has another child.”

 

Rhaegar shook his head. “All those dead babes is playing on his mind recently. Jaehaerys was poisoned by his mistress. He took that hard.”

 

“Mistresses are more trouble than they’re worth!” Harry spat. “You had better not take any when we’re married. You can practice all you like beforehand, as long as you don’t sire any bastard children, but afterwards, you’ll have just me until the day that we die.”

 

Rhaegar laughed. “You know that I don’t frequent brothels, brother. I have no taste for it. I prefer simpler pleasures than the complications added by other people. You and I are much alike in that respect.”

 

Harry nodded and calmed himself. He didn’t like many people either and much like Rhaegar had in his youth, he preferred reading and playing the high harp. Hawking, riding and fishing too. Though with Rhaegar being older, he’d been more interested in a sword and shield at an earlier age than Rhaegar had as they had practiced and sparred together.

 

“I best be getting back.” Harry sighed. “Just in case I’m found missing and some well-meaning servant sends Father into another panic.”

 

Rhaegar sat up with Harry still held to his chest and he kissed his forehead lingeringly.

 

“Take care back to your rooms and remember that I love you.”

 

“Pleasant dreams, Rhaegar.” Harry smiled as he kissed his brother’s cheek innocently and stood up, padding his way back to his own rooms that were just down the corridor from Rhaegar’s rooms.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Of course the best made plans were often waylaid and Harry’s was no different when, eight turns later he was still arguing his case for going to the Citadel. After Rhaegar had gotten involved, their Father had finally given in and allowed him to go to Oldtown as long as he took a personal guard with him. But those plans had crumbled when his Father, rapidly slipping further into madness, was taken prisoner at Duskendale by Lord Denys Darklyn early in the year 277AC.

The crown had been having problems with Duskendale for a while, as they refused to pay their taxes and insisted that port fees should be made lower so that they might thrive as they once had. Lord Denys wanted a charter for Duskendale and when he was refused, he’d taken the King hostage.

It had started with an invitation to Duskendale for King Aerys, it had ended with one member of the Kingsguard, Ser Gwayne Gaunt, dead and the King taken prisoner, barricaded within the Dun Fort, the ancient seat of house Darklyn.

Harry, who had only just been approved to travel to Oldtown with Prince Lewyn Martell as his personal bodyguard, had immediately stopped packing and preparing to travel and he’d delayed his plans and rode immediately to the walls of Duskendale on the far side of Blackwater Bay with Rhaegar as soon as they’d heard the news.   

Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, was stationed there with a very sizable host of men, surrounding the entire of Duskendale and holding it under siege.

 

“What’s happening?” Harry asked, swinging down from his horse, only just twelve years old and facing the very real threat of losing his Father, mad and erratic though he might be, but it didn’t matter. Aerys was still his Father, he was still family and this insult could not be allowed to stand.

 

“Perhaps, my Prince, this is not the best place for you.” The Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, suggested not unkindly.

 

“I need to know how he is.” Harry said worriedly as the remaining Kingsguard surrounded him and Rhaegar. If King Aerys was killed, then Rhaegar would be the King. He needed to be protected. “How did this even happen?” He demanded, very upset.

 

Rhaegar touched his shoulder and then inched his hand across to hold the back of his neck comfortingly.

 

“Father should never have come here.” Rhaegar told him. “It was foolish to personally treat with a hostile force. If he’d wanted to have settled this matter himself, then he should have invited Denys Darklyn to Kings Landing, not accepted an invitation to Duskendale.”

 

“He should have listened to Lord Lannister in the first place!” Harry cried out, almost in tears from frustrated emotions, half of which he couldn’t even name. “What use is there in having a Hand if you don’t use it?!”

 

Tywin looked pleased and that had been Harry’s intention. If he and Rhaegar were to rule, they couldn’t afford to alienate any of the Lords of the realm. They needed all of them to be behind them, but King Aerys was doing his very best to stomp Tywin Lannister into the ground, making the Lord of Lannister hate all Targaryens. Harry couldn’t allow that, so he was attempting, and at least partially succeeding, in showing that he and Rhaegar didn’t feel the same way as their Father.

Rhaegar turned to him and bent a little to get on his eye level…Harry was still only a boy of twelve and Rhaegar was a tall, broad man at almost eighteen.

 

“Everything is going to be fine, Haradarian.” He said gently.

 

“I can’t lose him. I’ve never lost anyone before.” He confided softly, though still loud enough for the few who were close enough to hear him.

 

“We’ve lost four brothers and a sister.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“That’s not the same! They were babies, they didn’t do much of anything. They didn’t speak or think or move and half of them were born dead. They were babies that barely had a chance to live before the Stranger took them as his own, this is _Father_! He’s been there for my entire life, Rhaegar. I don’t want to lose him so soon!”

 

“We won’t.” Rhaegar told him, clasping him to his chest with his strong arms and Harry calmed down immediately. “Duskendale can’t possible hope to come out of this favourably. The Darklyns sealed their fate as soon as they took Father and threatened his death. They would not dare.”

 

“And if they do?” A member of the small council, a man completely loyal to their Father, who had rode out with them, demanded.

 

“Then we have a better King ready and waiting.” Tywin said, raising a hand to indicate Rhaegar. “But the Prince is correct, I too believe that the Darklyns wouldn’t dare to kill the King. They would have no hope of achieving anything other than their own deaths if they did so.”

 

“They lose their only hostage if they kill Father.” Harry said, blinking his unshed tears away, thinking about it, his quick mind racing through his rapid thoughts. “They’d have no bargaining hostage to hold against us. We could hold this siege until the whole of Duskendale starve behind their walls if they killed him.”

 

Harry smiled then, his bright, beautiful smile that attracted attention like a moth to a flame.

 

“Rhaegar, they can’t kill him!” He said in joy. “Their only hope of achieving anything is if we give in and accept their terms because of the threat to Father! But we don’t have to because they can’t kill him.”

 

Rhaegar smiled at him and touched his head, cupping the back of his skull before getting eye contact with him.

 

“Go back to Kings Landing, Haradarian. Be with Mother and Viserys. I will stay here and handle this foolish situation. You need to rule Kings Landing in Father’s stead while I stay here. Can you do that?”

 

Harry nodded decisively. “I shall. Write to me often, so I know what’s going on. I’ll protect Mother and Viserys until you and Father return.”

 

Rhaegar smiled so proudly at him that Harry’s chest swelled. He loved this beautiful man and he wished that he could hold him, kiss him goodbye, but he couldn’t. Not here in front of all of these people. Not just yet.

Harry travelled straight back to Kings Landing with his favourite guard, Prince Lewyn Martell. There he informed his Mother of what was transpiring and he played a bit with his brother Viserys until he retired for the night.

The very next morning, after he’d broken his fast, he took the head of the court and listened to the grievances of the smallfolk and passed his judgement as he saw the right of things. He was but a boy of two-and-ten, five turns from being three-and-ten, but it had been said before that he had the intelligence of an ancient Maester.

He became known to the smallfolk as Haradarian the Heart as he chose justice and the love he held for the people over playing favourites and he doled out punishments fairly. So fairly that he ignored the unspoken hierarchy of status, wealth and even noble blood and passed his judgement as he saw the right of things, even peasants over their landlords and a homeless scrounge from flea bottom against the Commander of the city watch about him sleeping every night against the mud gate to escape the rain and wind. He executed no one in his scant several turns of ruling Kings Landing, he hadn’t seen the need to take the lives of others so easily, so uncaringly.

He attended his duties without a single murmur of complaint. He was only twelve, but he had a duty to his family and to the people, so he woke up extra early every morn, he broke his fast just as dawn was breaking, he dressed in his best clothing and he attended to the people of Kings Landing with Prince Lewyn by his side at all times for his protection.

It took half a year for the fall of Duskendale and only then it was thanks to the bravery and boldness of Ser Barristan Selmy, who, as he heard from Rhaegar’s own mouth, had scaled the walls of the town in the black of night, disguised himself as a beggar, stole into the Dun Fort, all the way down to the dungeons and he’d freed the King before charging back out again on stolen horses, cutting down anyone who stood in the way, all the way back to the walls of Duskendale where Tywin Lannister’s archers kept the way clear for them to escape the confines of the town. As soon as the King was out and safe, Lord Darklyn had opened the gates of Duskendale and he’d surrendered, there would be no mercy for him however. None at all. They couldn’t risk anything like this happening ever again. Lord Darklyn had to be made an example of and he had been.

Though at that time Harry could never have even fantasised about the horrors that his Father, the King, had in store for Duskendale. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he had known, but what had happened to the Darklyns, even to those not involved in the kidnap plot of the King, haunted him almost as much as the husk of the man he’d once known and loved that had been saved from the dungeons of the Dun Fort.

The damage had already been done long before he’d been saved, King Aerys was little more than an unkempt madman who was not sleeping and complained under his breath that the Darklyns had dared to strike him and strip him of his royal raiment before imprisoning him like a common thief. He had had all of them, every single Darklyn of birth, not just in name, aunts, uncles, cousins, every single distant kinsman, put to death and making extinct the Darklyn name. Not even the Darklyns good-family, the Hollards, had been spared the fate of their married family and they had been put to death too, all except for one, a mere babe named Dontos Hollard whom Ser Barristan Selmy had claimed for himself as a boon to repay his bravery of personally saving the King’s life at great risk to his own.

The cruellest fate by far, however, was saved for Lord Darklyn’s wife, Lady Serala, the Lace Serpent of Myr. The one who was said to have started the defiance of Duskendale with her poisonous pillow talk into Lord Denys’ ear.

Rhaegar had refused to tell him what had been done to her, but Harry had found it impossible not to learn of the grisly details when all of the King’s men were talking about it within the Red Keep. The Lady Serala had had her serpent tongue, as well as all of her womanly parts, torn out before his Father had burned her alive. He felt sick whenever he thought of it, such a punishment, and for a woman too, was much too barbaric for his tastes, but his Father had changed, he was no longer the man who Harry had grown up with. He was cruel and mean and not in the least bit loving or affectionate any longer.

His Father became increasingly unstable in the days and weeks after Duskendale and he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch him. He refused to wash or cut his hair or nails. He refused any ointments when he cut himself on the Iron Throne and he became known as King Scab as he was always covered in them.

He was suspicious of his Queen and he was convinced that Rhaella and Rhaegar were in a conspiracy with Tywin Lannister to have him killed so that Rhaegar could take the Iron Throne from him. He held Rhaegar, his once beloved son, in utter contempt. He had prevented Harry from celebrating his thirteenth name day and it had passed as if it were any other day, as he had also forbidden everyone else, even his own Mother, from acknowledging the day of his birth.

King Aerys took his new mean disposition and evil temperament out on Harry with a single minded determinedness to crush him under foot, to utterly destroy him and he wouldn’t even allow Harry to so much as speak in his presence, cutting him off with a snarled order as soon as he opened his mouth to say anything, that was if Harry was even allowed in the same room as him in the first place. Not content to stop there though, no, his own Father kept calling him the false Targaryen and he had started insisting that Harry was not his son. That he was a bastard boy pretending to be a Prince and that he should be imprisoned for his crime of impersonating a member of the royal family.

The only one that he truly cared to be near these days was Viserys, who was not yet two years old and his young, impressionable mind was being infected with the madness of King Aerys.

Today was just one step too far in his mind though, he had been as patient as he possibly could, recognising his Father’s trauma after being imprisoned and held captive for half a year, but he was at his topmost limit, especially after his uncelebrated name day and his forced removal from his Mother and brothers, Rhaegar in particular, whom he was forbidden from seeing or speaking to. It was too much for him to handle and so, after being told that he wasn’t allowed to eat with the family yet again and being ordered to scavenge for scraps in the kitchens like a mangy, stray dog, Harry ran sobbing, tears falling down his cheeks, from the royal solar to his bed chambers as his once beloved Father viciously turned on him, declaring him unfit to be near any ‘true Targaryens’.

His own Father had dubbed him Haradarian the Hideous to spite him after he’d heard the people calling him Haradarian the Heart once he’d gotten back to Kings Landing after his imprisonment.

Swallowing hard as he reached his rooms, Harry packed a light bag and took up his dagger, which he wasn’t allowed to wear in the presence of the King. Only the Kingsguard could arm themselves around the King these days as his Father had formed a phobia of knives and swords after cutting himself so often on the Iron Throne.

He was going to Oldtown, to the Citadel, as he’d planned before the debacle at Duskendale. Rhaegar was planning to sail to Dragonstone and he had asked him to go with him, but their Father had heard of the plan from his new hired spider, Varys, whom he paid to whisper the secrets he found out into his ear and King Aerys had forbade Harry to go to Dragonstone, so Rhaegar hadn’t gone either. The conditions in the Red Keep were becoming dire, neither he nor Rhaegar could stay here, not with the Mad King as unstable as he was. He was a breath away from having Harry burned alive and Rhaegar disinherited in favour of Viserys.

He wrote a cryptic letter to Rhaegar and he left it wrapped around the hilt of Rhaegar’s own dagger in his brother’s rooms. He knew that his brother would not leave it behind and as such he was like to find it.

He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t take any Kingsguard with him, not that they would have been able to come. The King hadn’t given Harry any protection in weeks and he had commanded all seven of the Kingsguard members (including Ser Gwayne Gaunt’s replacement Ser Jonothor Darry) to ignore him and to not speak to him and to leave him if ever there was any trouble. They were to protect the true Targaryens and leave him to his death if such a situation arose.

Harry took his own horse, a beautiful, well-bred palfrey that he’d had for years, and he rode out of Kings Landing and he knew that he would not be back for years to come. The hardest part about riding off was leaving his beautiful Rhaegar behind, but out of the two of them, Rhaegar was like to survive the madness of the King. He, with his hair as dark as a moonless night and his eyes like summer grass, was more likely to be cut down or burned alive by the mad King’s cruelty and shattered sanity. The hints were coming thicker and faster, the barbs crueller and more hostile and Harry had been living in fear of his life, that fear was only growing with each new morning. He couldn’t live like that any longer, so he was leaving for Oldtown. With any luck, and the will of the Seven, his Father would be dead by the time that he was ready to return.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

A/N: This fic is completely finished, so I feel absolutely no guilt in posting up a new WIP. I took a break from my other fics for a bit to write this one and it has taken me just nine weeks to write it, from start to finish to posting it up today, which is a serious accomplishment to be honest. This is the shortest chapter out of all six, so there is a lot more to come for this fic and I hope that I’ve done it, and the fandom, justice.

But I hope that you all like it as I post my first foray into this fandom. Updates will come weekly, as I want to make sure that each one is perfect and there are six chapters in total, five and an epilogue chapter. I’d like to remind you all to please take note of the warnings, they are important and I will reiterate that this fic IS an incest fic, which if you’ve read The Song of Ice and Fire Series isn’t actually that big of a deal due to canon events, but it can be a bit shocking if you’re new to the fandom. Thank you very much for reading, I hope that you’ve enjoyed the experience and the next chapter won’t be too far behind this one as it is already written, I just need some time to sort everything out and make it as perfect as I can and sort out my next updates.

 

StarLight Massacre. X 


	2. 279AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Time
> 
>  
> 
> Harry took his own horse, a beautiful, well-bred palfrey that he’d had for years, and he rode out of Kings Landing and he knew that he would not be back for years to come. The hardest part about riding off was leaving his beautiful Rhaegar behind, but out of the two of them, Rhaegar was like to survive the madness of the King. He, with his hair as dark as a moonless night and his eyes like summer grass, was more likely to be cut down or burned alive by the mad King’s cruelty and shattered sanity. The hints were coming thicker and faster, the barbs crueller and more hostile and Harry had been living in fear of his life, that fear was only growing with each new morning. He couldn’t live like that any longer, so he was leaving for Oldtown. With any luck, and the will of the Seven, his Father would be dead by the time that he was ready to return.
> 
>  

 

 

 

Chapter Two – 279AC

 

Ser Barristan Selmy had taken the disappearance of Prince Haradarian very hard. With the disappearance of the second Prince, the laughter had gone, the smiles had gone, all joy had been stripped from the Red Keep and Prince Rhaegar had been so filled with wroth at his brother’s disappearance that he had sailed immediately for Dragonstone and he rarely came back to the mainland to visit. Instead he sulked on Dragonstone and allegedly he prayed in the Sept every morn before he broke his fast that his brother returned soon and he begged for the Seven to protect the young Prince, who had vanished, with none of his armour or weapons and only his horse. He had gone in the twilit dusk before the gates to the city had been closed for the night, slipping unnoticed past the gold cloaks on duty, just a week after his uncelebrated thirteenth name day. He had been found missing the next morning, after he didn’t show to break his fast.

They had panicked, the Kingsguard that was, and the seven of them had been determined to ride out and track down the missing Prince, insistent that he couldn’t have gone far in just a single night, but they had been forbidden from any action by King Aerys. That had angered Barristan more than anything else, that this mad man, this _King_ , had driven away his own newly turned thirteen year old son, who was now out in the Seven Kingdoms alone and undefended. Haradarian the Heart. The sweetest boy that Barristan had yet met, with his soft smiles and sweet songs, his easy giggles and high laughs.

The mad King had oppressed the boy so much in the last few weeks since the end of the Defiance of Duskendale, had tried to crush him so thoroughly, that those smiles and giggles had all but vanished and Prince Haradarian had become miserable, turning as melancholic as Rhaegar had been in his youth, yet Rhaegar had become so full of wroth that he was all but unapproachable, yet his protectiveness of his two brothers had grown tenfold.

The pinnacle moment had been Harry’s thirteenth name day, the day that no one had been allowed to celebrate. He had seen how upset it had made the young boy and it had almost killed him inside to follow that order, to ignore the boy stood in front of him, trying to talk to him and to his sworn brothers, but they had been forbidden to acknowledge him and all of them, all seven of them, had followed that order and it had broken all of their hearts to do so. They had kept to their oaths and had instead followed their orders and they had ignored the small boy in front of them, who had been almost beseeching them to please just speak with him, to please just look at him, but they had carried on looking ahead, over Haradarian’s head as they’d been ordered to do and it had hurt the boy very deeply. The boy who was just very lonely, lost and distressed as he had been forbidden from being near his own family on his own name day and thus he had turned to them, as the only other constant in his life. Haradarian had almost been driven to tears by their actions of ignoring him and acting as if they couldn’t see or hear him and it had taken all of his strength of will to stop himself from falling to his knees and embracing the small boy before him.

Just a week later, a week in which everyone in the Red Keep, even the servants, had been forbidden from talking or being near Haradarian, which included ignoring all of his orders and requests, even those for food, and the Prince was discovered missing the morning after being told cruelly by the King that he wasn’t allowed to eat from the table with his silent family and that he had to eat leftover scraps from the floor in the kitchens. The boy had run from the solar in much distress, crying floods of tears from those beautiful green eyes and he had left behind broken hearts and bitter regrets within all of them for choosing to follow the order to ignore him as if he weren’t there. Perhaps if they had broken that order then the Prince would still be safe within the Red Keep and under their protection, for though they had been ordered to leave him to his death if such a situation arose, Barristan knew that he himself would never have been able to live with himself if ever he had been forced to stand and watch his boy being killed in front of him. He knew that he would never have followed that particular order and he’d like to think that his sworn brothers wouldn’t have been able to watch such an act or follow such an order either.

Perhaps he should never have offered to steal into Duskendale to save the King in the first place, but his honour had had him speaking out. He was sworn to protect his King, to obey his commands and to keep his secrets. He was sworn into the Kingsguard for the rest of his life and if he could have saved his King, he had had to try and now, because of that action on his part, he had lost another member of the royal family. His favourite member if he were brutally honest with himself.

Haradarian had become like a son to him, a son he had sworn to never father. He was always easy to smile, he always toddled over to say good morning to them when he had been a boy, though in his younger years they did not realise that ‘morning’ was what the young Prince had believed Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had been named. He remembered fondly the day that they had finally realised that their Prince did actually know the phases of the day and that he believed that Ser Arthur was actually named Morning.

 

‘Morning!’ The young Prince called out, hurrying over on unsteady feet that had more than a few of them loosening their arms to catch him if he fell onto the hard stone floor.

 

‘It is the afternoon, my Prince.’ Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander, had told the tiny boy kindly.

 

Prince Haradarian had blinked huge, confused eyes at them. He looked down with a wide grin before he held out a small bug that was crawling over his hand with that smile. The smile that he would never forget.

 

‘Look, Morning!’ The Prince had exclaimed again, thrusting the bug at Ser Arthur.

 

It had been Prince Lewyn who had laughed and nudged his younger sworn brother. ‘Our Prince thinks that your name is Morning!’ He chuckled happily.

 

‘He does not.’ Ser Arthur had denied.

 

‘My Prince, what is my name?’ He remembered asking the young Prince with amusement.

 

‘Bastan.’

 

‘And mine, my Prince?’ Lewyn had asked with a chuckle.

 

‘Lewyn.’ The Prince nodded.

 

‘What is my name, my Prince?’ Arthur had asked kindly.

 

‘Morning.’ The Prince had replied confidently, much to the amusement of all of them.

 

‘See! He does think that your name is Morning!’ Lewyn had laughed.

 

It had taken three turns to convince the young Prince that ‘Morning’ was actually part of a title used by Ser Arthur and they’d needed the help of Prince Rhaegar to finally convince him to start saying Ser Arthur, though he had still slipped for a while afterwards, particularly when excited.

 

Barristan smiled sadly at his nostalgic thoughts and he sighed. The thirteen year old Prince was gone, the boy he had known was gone, he would be fifteen now wherever he was, almost a man grown. None of them knew where he was and there had been no whisper of him in the last two years, nothing to hint at his whereabouts or wellbeing, only harsh tales and nasty gossip that he certainly didn’t believe in the least, and if Prince Rhaegar knew where his brother was then he said nothing on the rare occasions that he came to visit Kings Landing from Dragonstone. The longest he had stayed away from his little island was for the tourney at Storm’s End in honour of the late Lord Steffon Baratheon’s death.

Barristan had won that tourney, despite his advancing age and being pitted against much younger knights. He had won the last tilt against Prince Rhaegar, who had trained and practiced fiercely to defeat Ser Arthur Dayne to compensate for his loss at the tourney of Lannisport, he had not counted on Barristan unhorsing him in the final tilt. It was a fond memory for him.

It had been two years since the young Prince had vanished and there was no word, not even a hint of him throughout the Seven Kingdoms and many had given him up for dead, killed by a bandit or an outlaw for his horse and clothes most like. Barristan didn’t like thinking of such things, not of the boy he saw as close to his son as he was ever going to get.

The King liked to sit in Haradarian’s bed chamber, in a chair by his bed, silently, and it made Barristan, and his sworn brothers, very angry, though they wisely held their tongues. King Aerys had been the very reason that the Prince had run, he was the reason that Haradarian was not safely here in the Red Keep, he was the reason that Haradarian was lost in the Seven Kingdoms, exposed to numerous dangers that he was too young to deal with and he was the reason that Rhaegar had stole away to Dragonstone in isolation and now he was despairing their loss as if they had done him some great personal disservice. The mad King was the cause of the Princes running away and he acted as if they had been taken from him.

He was becoming more erratic and his obsession with fire was a telling sign of all the foolish and mad Targaryens before him, much like Aerion Targaryen who had drunk a cup of wildfire believing that it would make him a real dragon. No good ever came of a Targaryen’s obsessive fascination with fire in any form.

But then, late in the year 279 after Aegon’s Conquering, the Prince Haradarian stole back into the Red Keep, into Maegor’s Holdfast, as stealthy and as silently as he had left it two years before. One day they had still been despairing of his loss, two and a half years since he had left, wondering where he was and praying to the Seven that he was still alive and well. The very next morn, he was sat there, in the royal solar, his younger brother Viserys perched on his lap as he sung his sweet songs, a new note of steel to his voice that hadn’t been there two years previous. He was no longer a little boy, he was growing into a man at five-and-ten. Once he had finished his song and King Aerys had clapped along with Viserys, he had turned to face them and those huge green eyes looked back at him, that smile on his face, the smile that he had feared had been lost forever or permanently stamped out. Haradarian had come back home and he had brought his smiles and his laughter with him. That beautiful, wonderful, special boy.

 

279AC

 

Two and a half years of study at the Citadel in Oldtown had led to Prince Haradarian the Heart Targaryen to forging his own Maester’s chain. It was not wrapped around his throat like a choker, how the Maester’s wore their chains, as he had taken no oaths and he was no Maester. He had gone to Oldtown purely to learn and his links had been forged and they had been chained together in a continuous loop that hung almost down to his waist. Among them were a half dozen silver links for his prowess with medicine and healing, almost a half dozen of platinum links for herblore, one golden link for economics, (which had been the most boring study he’d taken up, testament to the fact was that he only had the one yellow gold link and he’d barely earned that), and a single lead link for poisons. He had three of iron for Warcraft and four of Valyrian steel, for magic. He had a few others, from when he had been very bored and had picked a new subject to study almost at random. But his main focus had been healing and medicine and Warcraft, of which he had excelled at both due to his passion and dedication to learning the arts, after he’d earned his first links, the subsequent links in each subject had come easier to him until he’d been earning a link every few turns as he’d done little else other than study and work towards his links in his two and a half years at the Citadel.

He was fifteen now, eight full turns from his sixteenth name day, and he had declared it time to go back to Kings Landing as he had learned all that he had wanted to from the Maesters at the Citadel. He had been corresponding with Rhaegar as often as he could since he’d left so suddenly. Rhaegar had written to him that he had sailed for Dragonstone the day after Harry had left and he rarely returned to Kings Landing.

He’d written to Rhaegar to tell him that he was coming home and Rhaegar had written back to him and sworn to meet him as soon as he arrived. The smallfolk were still clinging to his return, Rhaegar told him. The people still loved Haradarian the Heart, the Prince who had listened attentively and had ruled them justly, even for a mere half year while King Aerys had been imprisoned at Duskendale. Rhaegar told him that the smallfolk missed him and that he was a very attractive ruler in the face of King Aerys, the mad tyrant who had progressed to burning people alive on a whim, but no one knew where he’d gone. Even the Kingsguard had been panicked, or so Rhaegar told him, most particularly Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy and Prince Lewyn Martell. The Kingsguard had wanted to come looking for him, Rhaegar told him, they took it as a personal slight that they had lost a member of the royal family while on duty, but the King had forbade it. Harry had been expecting no different.

He rode alone along the Roseroad on his beloved palfrey. He had been hiding himself on the ride down to Oldtown, as he hadn’t wanted anyone to know who he was or where he was going, just in case he was dragged back to Kings Landing before he was ready to go back, but on the way back, he allowed his Princely demeanour to show through, though as he had on the journey down, he did not wear his house sigil or any noticeable jewellery as it was too dangerous and it would have been a beacon to every outlaw and cutthroat along the road, not to mention that his family had quite a few enemies, more now than they had had when he’d rode down this way two years previous.

He stopped at every town and major city on his way back, letting the smallfolk and nobles alike see him and know that he wasn’t dead and rotting in a ditch or hedge along the road. The most prestigious of his stops was, of course, Highgarden, the seat of house Tyrell, where upon he was welcomed like a long lost son.

Lord Mace Tyrell treated him like a brother, Alerie, his wife, could barely string a sentence together in his presence, much to the contempt of her good-mother, Olenna Tyrell of house Redwyne. Harry really liked the Lady Redwyne as she preferred to be called and he spent most of his time sitting with her and laughing over her ‘oaf’ of a son. Her own words, not Harry’s. He tried to be more diplomatic than name calling, but it was hard to hide his amusement at times. He was still rather young.

Though of course, he was surrounded by boys as he did speak with her as a four year old Willas sat right beside him, chatting at a mile a minute as Harry sat the newest Tyrell boy, Garlan, on his lap. Garlan was only two, but he was the sweetest little thing that Harry had ever seen. Even sweeter than Viserys and that had been quite hard for him to believe as no one had been sweeter than Viserys in his opinion two years ago.

He stayed at Highgarden for a week, finding himself unable to leave as he played with Willas, a tiny Garlan toddling after them both. But on the day that he had announced that he was leaving, Lord Mace insisted on sending an honour guard with him down the Roseroad. Harry refused graciously.

 

“I travelled to Oldtown alone, I will arrive back alone.” He said with a smile. “Though I thank you for the honour. You must come and see me soon. I would be delighted.”

 

Lord Tyrell puffed himself up and Harry heard Lady Olenna snort and Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing as he handed little Garlan back to his Mother and patted Willas on the head.

 

“We will come and visit you at Kings Landing.” Alerie managed to say, her cheeks a bright red.

 

“Once it’s safer.” Lady Olenna cut in.

 

“Mother!” Alerie chastised.

 

“I am not your Mother!” Lady Olenna sniffed. “If I’d given birth to you, I’m sure I would remember it.”

 

“I agree with Lady Olenna, my Lady.” Harry said. “Come only when it’s safe.”

 

“Surely we’ll be safe with your protection.” Alerie Tyrell told him with big, doe eyes. Harry despaired that anyone could be her age of two-and-twenty and still be so naïve.

 

Harry shook his head, his fingers finding his Maester’s chain and he playing with it in a nervous habit that he’d picked up in Oldtown. “When I left two years ago King Aerys was threatening to burn me alive, my Lady. I have no idea of the reception that I’ll receive when I go back. I’m not going to be safe, so I can’t offer any protection to others. It’s better to wait until it’s assuredly safe.”

 

“You could stay here.” Lady Olenna offered. “No one knows where you are and you could stay hidden here until it is safer for you. We would love for you to stay until it’s safe for you in Kings Landing.”

 

Harry was already shaking his head. “Thank you very much for the offer, my Lady Olenna, but I couldn’t accept. I have been away for too long already. I do not fear for myself, I am but one person after all, not even a man yet. I fear for the realm and the Seven Kingdoms, having to live through this oppression, this tyranny and instability. I ran to Oldtown, Rhaegar to Dragonstone. What is the realm to do when its two Princes are running away when most do not have the means to escape? The time for running is over. The time for hiding is over. Rhaegar and I have to do our duty to the realm because the King will not.”

 

Harry left Highgarden alone, with a very well fed, fattened palfrey under him. He was sad to say goodbye to Highgarden, and to his friends, the Tyrells. He’d very much enjoyed the week that he had spent here, but he was missing Rhaegar more and more, his heart was aching under the pain and sadness of being separated from him for so long and he needed to see him and touch that beautiful face again.

Harry travelled as long as he could during the day and then he stayed at the closest inn at night. He made no secret of who he was and most of the smallfolk he met were overjoyed to see him and to know that he was in actual fact safe and well. One tavern owner even tried to give him his food and board for free, but Harry had steadfastly refused as he paid his tab happily with the small amount of coin he’d earned for himself while at the Citadel, drinking and laughing with several strangers as he bought them meat and mead. He did the same all the way up the Roseroad.

He was slightly afraid of running into an outlaw group or any brigands, but he wouldn’t let that fear rule him, the Roseroad was one of the most heavily travelled roads in Westeros because of its link to Oldtown and the Citadel, thus it was one of the safest roads to travel by, but one could never be too careful when travelling alone. He was five-and-ten now and he’d only been three-and-ten when he’d come down this road two and half years previous. He’d looked after himself then, he could do better now that he was older.

Of course he made sure to make friends along the way. He helped some young boys to track down an errant sibling who had fallen asleep in a bush, he’d helped an elderly woman patch up a cut hand and he’d even stopped to help a farmer and his little sons to replace the axle on his cart when it had snapped after he’d hit a pothole. The man had been struck speechless when he had asked for his name to thank him properly and Harry had responded with Haradarian Targaryen. Harry had left the farmer and his two young sons with a newly replaced cart axle and a wave as he rode off on his palfrey towards Kings Landing.

His arrival in Kings Landing was the same as his departure, quiet and stealthy. He had ridden long into the night, bedded down just off of the Kingswood road, hidden by the trees as he slept under his cloak for only a few hours and he’d woken up very early, before dawn, to finish off the last part of his journey. He had arrived back home just as day was breaking.

The bridge into Maegor’s Holdfast was empty and the doors were open. The King was already up and about and he had the whole of the Kingsguard with him, if Harry had to guess then he would say that his Father was praying in the Sept before he broke his fast, but taking every member of the Kingsguard with him was new, he hadn’t even left one member behind to patrol the drawbridge into Maegor’s Holdfast. He hadn’t left even one member to protect his wife or son. It seemed to Harry that the King was even more paranoid than when he’d left two years before. It wasn’t a good sign and he was very nervous about what sort of reception he would receive, but he couldn’t let that fear rule him. Not anymore. He couldn’t remain an outcast from his own home until his Father died, it just wasn’t feasible and he couldn’t stay away any longer, he missed Rhaegar far too much and he needed for the smallfolk to remember him, if he was out of sight and out of mind, that couldn’t happen.

Harry found his three year old brother Viserys breaking his fast with a servant watching over him. A servant who pulled out a dagger as soon as he walked into the room in a clear, wordless threat to do him harm if he came any closer. Harry’s hand flexed towards his own dagger in automatic reflex, but he ignored the urge to draw the blade. Violence would get him nowhere here.

 

“Hello, Viserys. Do you remember me?” He asked softly, ignoring the servant with the dagger as much as was wise.

 

Viserys looked up at the sound of his voice, his big purple eyes scrutinising him. The boy shook his head.

 

“I’m Haradarian. Your brother.”

 

“Oh!” Viserys exclaimed, leaping up and he ran to him, the servant was stunned stupid as she finally recognised him and Harry picked up Viserys and held him close, inhaling deeply the smell of his baby brother.

 

“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Where did you go?” Viserys asked. “Mother and Rhaegar tell me about you.”

 

“I was in Oldtown, Viserys, at the Citadel. Look, I’ve got a Maester’s chain.” Harry told him, plucking out the links from under his plain jerkin.

 

Viserys took them and played them over in his little hands.

 

“Are you a Maester now?” Viserys asked curiously. “Like Pycelle?”

 

Harry laughed. “No, little dragon. I never swore any oaths, I just went there to learn.”

 

Harry sat down smoothly and put Viserys on his knee, holding him tightly in his lap, much like he’d done to Garlan Tyrell a week before and he happily helped Viserys to eat, tearing up bread and bits of fruit for him and eating bits and pieces himself. He was missing Rhaegar so much now that he was here. He just wanted Rhaegar, he wanted to know what his strong, beautiful brother looked like now that he was twenty years old.

 

“You used to sing to me.” Viserys said suddenly. “I remember Mother saying.”

 

Harry smiled and kissed Viserys’ silver crown of hair. “I did. I would sing you to sleep on most nights while Rhaegar played a tune on his harp for you.” 

 

“Sing to me now.” Viserys demanded.

 

Harry laughed. “Well you are certainly used to getting your own way. My voice has changed now, I can’t do all those soft voices I used to, my voice is deeper and harder, but I have some new songs that fit my new voice better, would you like to hear them?”

 

“Sing. Sing!” Viserys told him excitedly and Harry grinned.

 

He started singing. He could still sing softly, but not as soft as his eleven or twelve year old voice had been able to accomplish. His voice had a hint of steel to it now as he got older and he could make it deeper more than he could make it higher as he’d been able to do in his youth.

He didn’t notice that anyone had walked in on them until he’d finished his last song and Viserys had clapped his hands, joined in by someone else.

Harry snapped his head around with a smile to look behind him and he almost recoiled in horror at the sight of King Aerys, his Father, he managed to just hold his smile in place by sheer force of will. The King was sunken and saggy, his nails were very, very overgrown, thick and yellow like the talons on a hawk, his hair and beard were down to his waist and were both matted, tangled, unwashed and uncombed. 

He was surrounded by the surprised Kingsguard and Harry was happy to see them unchanged, even if Ser Harlan Grandison was looking more ancient than the withered King.

 

“My son, you have come home.” King Aerys said happily and Harry was confused to see tears in the old man’s eyes. The last he’d heard his Father was going to burn him on public display, but then the old man was crazed and ruled by madness, such men were not the most reasonable or rational.

 

King Aerys hobbled over to embrace him and Harry’s eyes widened and his gorge rose immediately as he gagged visibly at the smell that Viserys, sat on his lap, seemed to not smell. Harry controlled himself as his Father embraced him, though the suppressed dry heaving caused tears to well in his own eyes and the entire Kingsguard could see him fighting not to vomit, but he didn’t care as he patted his Father gently and shivered in revulsion as he was finally released from such a torturous embrace.

 

“Where have you been, Haradarian? I have had no word of you for two years, or is it three?”

 

“Two and a half, Father.” Harry said, trying not to breathe through his nose, but his Father’s unwashed body and hair made such a smell that it actually had a taste behind it. “I’ve been in Oldtown, as I had planned a year in advance before I finally left.”

 

“Haradarian’s a Maester!” Viserys pipped up, tugging at Harry’s chain of many metals.

 

Harry laughed. “Not exactly. I’ve forged over twenty links, but I swore no oaths. I went to learn. Not to become a Maester.”

 

“There are so many links of silver and iron.” The King said, stroking his chain with his gnarled hands.

 

“Half a dozen of silver for medicine and healing, three of iron for Warcraft. There are several odd links at the back from when I got bored and picked something at random to study. Economics was particularly tedious.” Harry laughed, pulling his chain around to show the single yellow gold link and several other odd metals, such as the single bronze link for Astronomy and the single link of pale steel for smithing. “But herblore was almost too easy, I earned five platinum links before I decided to switch my studies to something else.”

 

“This is Valyrian steel.” His Father said, touching the four links grouped together. “You studied magics.”

 

“I did. It was entirely ridiculous, but I stuck to it as it was my hope at the time that I could get enough links to melt them down and forge a Valyrian steel blade. The subject got much too boring and far too illogical for me to continue. Though I’d considered stealing the ring, rod and mask of Archmaester Marwyn to melt those down too, but ultimately decided that it was a very bad decision and gave up the hope of bringing a Valyrian steel sword back to the Targaryen family. I earned all four links at the same time that I earned this one for smithing and this one for astronomy.” He said, pointing out the pale steel link and the bronze one. “I studied for most of my links at the same time, and at one time I was studying four different subjects simultaneously. I don’t think I ate or slept right for those four turns.

 

“No matter. I’m happy to have you home. Now if only Rhaegar would come home too.”

 

“I am home.” A strong voice said from the doorway and Harry looked up quickly to see that devastatingly handsome face, the long silver hair in a small braid, some shorter strands were free and Harry was pleased to see that Rhaegar had a bit of a fringe that was swept back over the top of his head, held in place, no doubt, by the salt spray from the ocean.

 

“When did you arrive?” King Aerys asked, looking at his tall, strong oldest son with yet more tears that completely confused Harry.

 

“Not half an hour ago. I came straight from Blackwater Bay when my ship docked.” Rhaegar said as he moved closer. He allowed their Father to embrace him, as Harry had, but he controlled his expression a lot better than Harry had, but then Rhaegar was twenty now, his twenty-first name day was in another six turns.

 

When King Aerys let him go, Rhaegar came to Harry and embraced him tightly, Viserys with them as Harry was still holding the three year old.

 

“I missed you so much.” Rhaegar whispered to him.

 

“I missed you more.” Harry insisted.

 

“I missed you both.” Viserys pipped up and Rhaegar took their little brother from Harry and kissed his cheek, settling him in his own large, muscular arms.

 

Harry appreciated Rhaegar’s hard work and musculature. He shivered, much more tuned in to such sexual feelings at fifteen than he had been when he was younger. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

 

“I’m back for good. I’ve studied all I want to.”

 

“I am glad that you’re back.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“It’s good to be back, we have a lot to catch up on.”

 

“Of course. Do you want to spar first?” His older brother asked him.

 

Harry pulled a face and he bit his lip, looking at Rhaegar guiltily.

 

“I left my sword here when I went to the Citadel and I haven’t touched one since. I’m going to be a little…rusty.”

 

“We can’t have that.” Ser Arthur Dayne said firmly. “Have you eaten?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, Ser.”

 

“Then in the courtyard, now.”

 

Harry sighed, almost groaned.

 

“Are you coming to watch, Viserys?” Rhaegar asked him, still in his arms.

 

The three year old nodded happily and Harry went to get dressed properly, travelling the familiar path to his rooms. They were untouched, but he could tell that someone had been sitting in his chair as the fabric had been worn down and the padding was less plump that it had been before he’d left. Someone had been sitting in it a _lot_.

He changed into the bits of padded armour that still fit him. He left off all of his old breeches as they were too short in the leg, but most of his doublets and tunics still fit him as he had not gotten much broader in the shoulder or any thicker in the chest or stomach. He would still need some new clothes made for him though.

He picked up his sword and shield, both untouched. He came back down the stairs and through the corridor. He hurried his steps when he saw a woman with two septas beside her walking in front of him, and knowing who it was from the long, curled silver hair, he passed his sword into the hand holding his shield and then grabbed her around the waist with his free hand and then he laughed as she screamed.

She turned and Harry saw her beautiful purple eyes widen, before they filled with tears of delight.

 

“Oh, my son. My sweet Haradarian, you’re home! You’re safe!” She cried as she all but fell onto him to hug him.

 

“Hello, Mother.”

 

“Where have you been?!” She raged at him. “No letters, no raven! I thought that you were dead.” She sobbed.

 

“I’ve been in Oldtown, look.” He said proudly, holding out his Maester’s chain.

  

“Oh, you wonderful, clever boy. I’m so proud of you.” She said as she played with the chain, much like Viserys had. “Medicine and healing? I’d had no idea that you had such a passion for it.”

 

Harry nodded. “It was very important to me to learn medicine and healing. I just have a feeling that I’ll have need of it one day, I didn’t question the feeling as I got it in the Sept, I’m sure that the Seven themselves willed it of me. I have five links for herblore too, to supplement my silver links.”

 

“I’m so happy that you’re home. Look how you’ve grown! I’ll send for a tailor so that you can be measured and fitted for new clothes. My wonderful, beautiful boy, how I’ve missed you. Rhaegar visits now and again, but I have had no word from you in two and a half years, Haradarian.”

 

“Rhaegar’s home too.” Harry told her. “We’re going into the courtyard to spar with Ser Arthur Dayne.”

 

He rather thought that his beautiful Mother was going to burst out crying as she hurried her steps to the solar where they always broke their fast.

 

“Rhaegar.” She called out happily as she threw her arms around her oldest son and held him tightly.

 

“Mother. You’re looking very well.” Rhaegar told her.

 

“Look how tall and handsome you are.” She fawned. “I haven’t seen you in half a year and already you’ve grown another several inches.”

 

“I’m sorry for that, Mother.”

 

Harry was pulled into the embrace of brothers by his Mother, so all three of them were being touched by their Mother at the same time.

 

“My three boys, all back at last.” She sniffled slightly. “Now go, go and do whatever you were doing, I need to break my fast. Viserys, have you eaten, darling?”

 

“Yes, Mother.” The three year old replied. “I’m going to watch Rhaegar and Haradarian spar!” He declared.

 

“Oh, well do be careful, dear, stay close to the Kingsguard and to your brothers.”

 

Viserys, still in Rhaegar’s arms, nodded his head and Harry gave his Mother one last hug, tried to ignore his Father’s stench from where he was breaking his own fast, glad that he had already eaten as the King was touching everything with his unwashed, ungroomed hands, and he hurried out into the training courtyard of the Red Keep with three members of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Prince Lewyn.

 

“Hand that sword here.” Ser Arthur Dayne told him sternly. “You haven’t touched a sword in two years, you will have a wooden one.”

 

“He’s a Prince!” Viserys cried out in all his three year old disbelief. “You can’t take his sword!”

 

“Viserys.” Harry laughed. “When a knight of the Kingsguard tells you that you aren’t good enough for a sword, you listen.” He insisted. “I haven’t touched a sword in two years, it’s dangerous. I will not accept this sword back until I have earned it back through hard work and training.”

 

Harry handed his sheathed sword over to Ser Arthur Dayne, who handed it off to Barristan Selmy. Harry was handed a heavy, wooden training sword instead and then he paid for his two year absence. He paid for it with pain as he proved exactly how inept he had become with a sword.

 

“Gods be damned, boy! Have you forgotten everything that I taught you?” Ser Arthur burst out as Harry was disarmed easily yet again.

 

“I told you I’d be rusty!” Harry complained.

 

“There’s rusty and then there’s abysmal!” Prince Lewyn laughed. “You are easily categorised as the latter.”

 

Harry frowned. “I was at the Citadel, I didn’t exactly have anyone to spar with! They’re all old men with their noses buried in a book! Half of the boys my own age had never even seen a real sword, let alone held one! I got into a few fights though.” He admitted.

 

“Hand to hand combat?” Prince Lewyn asked, grinning. “How very lowbrow for a Prince.”

 

“You would know.” Harry said tartily, referring to the many times that Prince Lewyn Martell had used his fists in a fight. “Oberyn has told me all the stories about your antics.”

 

“Come on then, show me what you can do, my Prince.”

 

Harry kicked away his already dropped wooden sword from where Ser Arthur Dayne had disarmed him and he rolled his shoulders. He crouched down to show that he was ready and he allowed Prince Lewyn to jab at him, dodging without retaliating until a particularly vicious swing gave him the opening that he was looking for and he took savage advantage of it. He kicked out the back of a knee with a short, but vicious kick with the top of his foot before putting his own knee up into tender ribs with the same leg and then using his own body weight to get Lewyn to the floor, where he wrapped his legs around the other man’s throat, sat up straight on his knees and grabbed both wrists and pulled them back. Prince Lewyn could no longer move or get himself to his feet and he was slowly being choked by the pressure of Harry’s body and legs around his neck.

 

“Very impressive.” Ser Barristan told him and Harry grinned, letting go of the wrists he held and then slowly, carefully unwinding his legs. He helped the coughing Prince Lewyn back to his feet.

 

“You weren’t kidding, you really did get into a few fights.” The man told him as he massaged his throat.

 

Viserys was cheering for him and Harry gestured him over.

 

“Come here, Viserys. Ser, on your knees.” He directed to Lewyn Martell.

 

“I’m going to regret this.” The man grumbled, but he did as he’d been told.

 

“Viserys, listen up. Rhaegar, you too.” Harry called out. “When earning my silver links, I learnt extensively about the human body. I know exactly where to hit to incapacitate a person with a single blow. Viserys, you’re too young for swords as of yet, but there’s no reason that you can’t help yourself a bit. Here.”

 

Harry pressed into Viserys’ chest with a finger. Viserys giggled.

 

“Now, you feel this bone here.” Harry said, picking up his brother’s hand and dragging Viserys’ own finger down his breastbone. His three year old brother nodded. “You feel where it ends here.” Again Viserys nodded. “Use the side of your fist, like this, and smash the spot where it ends.”

 

Harry helped Viserys do just that and Lewyn Martell went down on his hands, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him by a three year old. Viserys laughed loudly and happily at what he’d done and Harry patted his head.

 

“You must only use this for defence, Viserys.” Harry said sternly. “If I hear that you’ve done this to _anyone_ who didn’t deserve it, I will punish you myself, am I clear?”

 

“Yes, Haradarian.” Viserys said happily.

 

“How do you do it?” Rhaegar asked interestedly.

 

Harry stood and smiled at the few Kingsguard members who had come out to oversee his sparring. It looked like they were regretting that decision right now. “Who wants to go down next?” He asked cheerily.

 

Ser Barristan sighed and stepped forward.

 

“Thank you, Ser.” Harry said genuinely. “Rhaegar, you can use your fist, not the side of it like Viserys, you’ll get more power behind a punch. You want to hit right here.”

 

Harry took great pleasure in running his fingers down Rhaegar’s breastbone, teasing his older brother through his belted tunic and giving him a sly, sultry smile.

 

“This spot here, where the breastbone ends. Punch right here. As hard as you can against an enemy, not too hard on poor Ser Barristan as if you hit hard enough, it can kill.” Harry explained.

 

Harry stood behind his much taller brother and he kicked Rhaegar’s feet into position, he stood behind Rhaegar and placed his hands on his waist and he turned, moving Rhaegar’s arm.

 

“Bend at the elbow, Rhaegar.” He instructed. “Pull all the way back and then throw forward with all of your weight. Act as if you’re going to punch right through your enemy.”

 

Rhaegar threw forward and almost toppled as he wasn’t aiming to hit anything with this punch.

 

“Well done. A hit like that will kill if you get the right spot and the right amount of force.” Harry said happily. “Now do the same, but don’t throw all of your weight behind it this time.”

 

Harry again helped Rhaegar set his body up, more for an excuse to touch him, and Ser Barristan stepped forward, within reach, to be Rhaegar’s target.

Rhaegar just punched outward this time, without twisting and throwing forward, but still Ser Barristan went down to his knees, unable to catch his breath, gasping urgently for air. Harry knelt down to help him, coaching him through the pain and panic of being unable to breathe until he could take in deep, desperate gasps.

 

“Of course as soon as they’re down and incapacitated, you can hack their head off.” He said matter-of-factly as he stood again as soon as Ser Barristan was breathing more normally. “It just means less sword play and a bit more using your fists. Naturally, if you’re wearing a mailed fist or a gauntlet it’ll be easier to kill your opponent, but it won’t work if they’re wearing a good quality breastplate. If they’re wearing just a breastplate, feign high with your sword to remove the shield, then kick out the back of the knee. If they’re in full scale or plate armour, run.”

 

“Run?” Rhaegar turned to look at him in shock at his perceived cowardice.

 

Harry laughed at the stunned look being sent his way. “Not away!” He insisted sternly. “In a circle if you must. Full armour is _heavy_!” He emphasised. “You’re more like to win if you tire them out a bit beforehand. It gives you a bigger advantage.”

 

“What if you’re in full armour too?” Ser Arthur asked him, his eyes narrowed. Harry got the feeling that he was being tested. It was like he was back in the Citadel earning his iron links all over again.

 

“Dodge.” Harry answered immediately. “You let them swing as wildly as they like, just keep them moving while merely dodging yourself. They’ll tire more before you will and thus you keep the advantage.”

 

“I’m impressed.”

 

“You shouldn’t be. I do have three links for Warcraft.” Harry grinned. “Coupled with what I learnt for medicine and healing, I can combine the two to deadly effect.”

 

“It is an… _odd_ combination, I grant you. Warcraft and healing don’t exactly come together easily, one creates pain and injury, the other removes it.”

 

“On the contrary, I use the knowledge that I learnt in healing to better incapacitate my enemies as I know where to strike to kill or to cause the most pain.”

 

“Now we just need to get you used to a sword again and you’ll be a very formidable warrior.”

 

“Shield too.” Harry grinned. “Not to mention lance.”

 

The Kingsguard members shoulders all slumped at near enough the same time. Harry couldn’t help laughing.

 

“Let’s get down to business then.” Ser Arthur Dayne said firmly. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

 

Harry picked up his wooden sword again and his actual shield with the Targaryen sigil painted onto it and he tried to get his body to form the right positions that he did remember but his muscles just could no longer conform to as they hadn’t been used in such a way in such a long time.

The Kingsguard kept him practising for hours and in the end even Rhaegar went to attend to other matters, leaving Harry pouring with sweat and panting in exhaustion by the time that Ser Arthur was content to let him go and bathe.

Harry was exhausted, but he still had ten serving girls draw him a hot bath, pouring large, heavy kettles of boiled water straight into a wooden tub to keep it hotter for longer. Harry liked his baths scalding hot, as did Rhaegar. They were the blood of the dragon and heat didn’t bother them as much.

 

“Would you like me to stay and welcome you home properly, my Prince?” One bold, buxom girl of seven-and-ten asked him breathily.

 

“No.” Harry said simply. “I wish to bathe alone. All of you, leave me.”

 

Of course he knew what she had meant, he had practiced a bit with others while in Oldtown, but mostly because he had been lonely and sometimes drunk on the very rare and sparse occasions that he had taken away from his studies. He was too exhausted anyway, even if he had felt the mood for such things, of which he didn’t. He had had his practice, now he was to be married and he would not disrespect Rhaegar in such a manner by engaging in such activities in Kings Landing. 

He had practiced with a few boys too, but he had never, ever allowed them to penetrate him. That honour was for Rhaegar, and Rhaegar alone, and now that he was home, he was not going to play or practice with anyone else. He wouldn’t disrespect his love in such a way, he swore it.

He sunk into the scalding hot water with a blissful sigh, his skin not even turning pink. He liked the heat of the water, he could even touch hot coals or sun baked metals. He was by no means impervious to fire, however. He was not so crazed as Aerion Targaryen, who had drunk a cup of wildfire in the misguided belief that it would make him into a real dragon. He still had a healthy respect for fire and there was no way that he would ever touch it or play with it, he had no desire to be labelled as mad like his Father or like Aerion before him, who had died screaming. But an extra hot bath didn’t do him, or his reputation, any harm.  

After the royal family had supped and had then retired for the evening, Harry stayed in his bed chambers, waiting, until in the dead of the night, he slipped out of his room, padded silently down the dark hall and into Rhaegar’s room. He saw the lump in the bed that was his brother and Harry’s heart started beating faster. He closed Rhaegar’s door and he slid the deadbolt across before he padded quietly to Rhaegar’s bed and slid in with him. He was grinning when a sleeping Rhaegar became aware that he was no longer alone in his own bed as Rhaegar had slipped his arms around Harry’s waist and snuggled in before his face creased in confusion, his sleepy mind telling him that no one should be in the bed with him.

Those purple eyes blinked open and looked at him for a moment before Rhaegar actually saw him properly and he sat himself up and rolled over on top of him. Harry’s heart did a back flip and his breath caught in his throat.

 

“I’d hoped that you’d come, I must have fallen asleep waiting for you.” Rhaegar said huskily. “It was a long, hard sail from Dragonstone, the waters were a bit choppy.”

 

“I was going to come sooner, but Ser Gerold was patrolling the corridor relentlessly. I think he is worried that we might run off again.” Harry said, looking up into Rhaegar’s devastatingly beautiful face.

 

He found that he couldn’t help himself as he pushed himself upwards and he kissed Rhaegar on the mouth. Their first proper kiss and after a moment’s shocked pause, Rhaegar cupped either side of his head and kissed him back, hard. He forced his tongue into Harry’s mouth and his larger body framed Harry’s easily. As soon as their passions had been unleashed, it was impossible to cage them back in, that one kiss had broken the sibling bond between them and opened them to more carnal desires. That one kiss had been the push over the edge, the permission that had been needed and now…now there was no stopping them. Rhaegar was ready, Harry was more than ready and he was now old enough for such things. He wouldn’t be a man for another year, but that didn’t matter. He was old enough for marriage and sex and he would be having both with Rhaegar very soon now that he was back home.

 

“You’ve kissed someone before.” Rhaegar told him, panting, breathing heavily.

 

“I got in some practice while I was in Oldtown. I was very lonely.” Harry told him truthfully. “I never let anyone take me, however. That honour was always reserved for you. For our wedding night.”

 

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long. I prayed to the Seven for forgiveness for thinking of you that way so young, but you have always been dear to me.”

 

“I don’t want to wait any longer, Rhaegar. I want to be married to you. I want to have children…your children.”

 

Rhaegar looked at Harry’s serious face and he nodded. He smiled and then kissed him again, hard, but briefly.

 

“It will be done. I’ll immediately prepare the ceremony. I’ve been thinking almost of nothing else ever since you left for Oldtown and I believe that the only way to do it is as quietly as possible. We’ll have to do it in the godswood, by the tradition of the old gods in front of the great oak heart tree. It’s too dangerous to do it in a Sept. We only need a few witnesses for a marriage in front of the old gods. We can have a marriage in the Faith of the Seven if you want one once we have the Iron Throne, as soon as Father passes.”

 

“Who would we ask to witness?” Harry worried.

 

“Jon.” Rhaegar said immediately. “He would never tell a living soul. I was thinking of Ser Arthur Dayne too.”

 

“Rhaegar, I know he’s your oldest, closest friend, but Ser Arthur is sworn to report to the King.”

 

“Only if the King asks him.” Rhaegar insisted. “Why would Father ask him if we had married each other?”

 

Harry swallowed and he took a leap of trust. “Okay, those two and Lewyn Martell, no more.”

 

Rhaegar nodded in agreement.

 

“Are you sure Jon will do it?”

 

“Yes, Arthur and Jon are my oldest, closest friends, Haradarian. Don’t forget, we’ll be Kings soon, no one would dare to upset us. Father doesn’t have long left, I fear. His madness is eating away at him.”

 

“I saw it too. He smells awful, but under that stench of an unwashed body is the smell of sickness. I know it well from my time in the Citadel studying for my silver links.”

 

“Things will work out. I told you in my letters that he sent Lord Steffon Baratheon to Essos to find me a wife. But when Lord Baratheon came back, not only had he failed, but his ship went down in his own waters with his Wife aboard, in front of their two sons, the now Lord Robert Baratheon and his younger brother, Stannis. They’d just had another son the year before as well, little Renly. Of course, Father blamed Tywin Lannister. Apparently the man is conspiring with the gods now, or perhaps sea monsters that drag ships under water, who knows.”

 

Harry considered that. “I actually like the name Renly…Prince Renly Targaryen. I like it.”

 

Rhaegar laughed and kissed him again. “The point is I am still unmarried, still not betrothed and Father’s plans to find me a wife have failed.”

 

Harry smiled in satisfaction. “No one will be as good for you as I am.” He declared.

 

“It seems even the gods know it too. Why else would Lord Baratheon fail to find a suitable wife for me in Essos despite the blood of old Valyria still being strong over in Volantis? The gods conspire against them and in our favour. We will usher in a new age of the dragon, Haradarian, I am more certain than ever that the prophecy refers to us both. Even the gods are on our side.”

 

Harry pulled Rhaegar’s head back down and kissed him, playing his tongue along his brother’s and teasing his hair with his fingers.

 

“I’ve waited so long for this. For you.” Rhaegar declared when they next broke apart for air. Harry was too breathless to reply, which didn’t get any better when Rhaegar pushed up his sleeping tunic and kissed his belly. “I love you.”

 

“Love you.” Harry managed to force out as his body was assaulted by hormones and the pleasure of having Rhaegar’s lips on his skin.

 

“How much practice did you have?” Rhaegar asked him seriously.

 

“Not much.” Harry admitted. “A couple of girls and I did take a boy or two, but I wouldn’t let anyone take me. I think I hurt those boys more than anything else.”

 

“Did the boys or any of the girls suck you?”

 

“Wh…what?” Harry asked confusedly. “ _Suck_ me? Suck me where?”

 

Rhaegar grinned and he rolled over to his bedside table and he took the candle burning there and lit several more on either side of his bed.

 

“I want to see you properly when I do this.” He declared as he came back, pushing Harry’s tunic right up to his chest and removing his smallclothes. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

“Not as beautiful as you are.”

 

Rhaegar laughed. “No one in the Seven Kingdoms or beyond could compare to your beauty, Harry. Not even me. Half the Lords and their sons want you as a lover, with your midnight hair and large, emerald eyes, not to mention this slim, supple body of yours. I’m too bulky and muscular for most of their tastes.”

 

“How do you know that?” Harry demanded angrily, smarting from the disrespect shown to him that he would be a mere lover of anyone when he was a Prince.

 

“I’ve heard some of them muttering at tourneys, the muttering only got worse when you vanished as no one knew where you were, there were even rumours going around that some Lord had had you kidnapped to be his paramour. Of course, they all pray that I haven’t heard them when they spot me, but I have heard them, though I act like I haven’t. That was the hardest part of hearing them speaking of you like that when you’re to be my married Husband. They will learn soon enough. I remember every single one of them and I will not favour them easily when we have the Iron Throne.”

 

Harry frowned, not sure how to take the news that people were seeing him as a mere catamite, a paramour for others to use as they saw fit. He needed to start making a better name for himself. He refused to be remembered in history as just someone that somebody else wanted to fuck.

 

“Do not look so angry, brother. They will never be able to have you.” Rhaegar comforted him. “You’re all mine.”

 

Harry’s thought process was cut off when Rhaegar kissed at his inside thighs, causing him to make a soft ‘oh’ of sighed pleasure. Rhaegar smiled into his leg at the sound as he kissed down to his knee and then back up, right to the very sensitive spot high up his thigh.

 

“Ser Arthur Dayne has said that you can squire for him.” Rhaegar told him. “He’s already training you, why not squire for him too. That is if you still wish to be knighted.”

 

“Uh?” Harry grunted, confused.

 

Rhaegar laughed. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time to engage your brain. Just lay back and relax for me, Harry.”

 

Harry lay back down on the soft, goose down feather pillows and he let Rhaegar kiss up and down his inside thighs, switching legs and nibbling at irregular intervals. When Harry was fully hard, Rhaegar sat up and went digging through his things again. He came back with a small jar of animal fat in his hand.

 

“What’s that for?” Harry asked lazily.

 

“You didn’t use fat when you took the boys in Oldtown? No wonder they were pained.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“I used bath oil.” Harry said with narrowed eyes. “I thought we were waiting for our wedding night for that, though. But if you want to push that ahead of schedule and take me now, I am not complaining, I hardly have a maidenhead to lose.”

 

Rhaegar gave him a lusty look, but shook his head. “No. We will wait for our wedding night, but I want to suck you.”

 

“With animal fat?” Harry asked sceptically.

 

“It’ll help.” Rhaegar said confidently. “And it’ll taste much better for me than bath oil.”

 

Harry nodded and he didn’t argue with his brother. If Rhaegar thought that animal fat would help, it likely would. Rhaegar had been preparing for their wedding night for years, practising and learning to make sure that he was getting it right and that he would never harm him. Rhaegar knew more about these things than he himself did.

Of course Harry couldn’t help the noises he made or how his hips bucked when Rhaegar held the fat in his hand until it softened and melted a little before he smeared it on Harry’s cock, all the way from base to tip.

Panting a little, he looked down his body at Rhaegar, who was watching him closely with a possessive smile on his face. Harry was watching as Rhaegar lowered his head to his cock and he bit into his own hand to prevent the scream as the hot, tight mouth of Rhaegar slipped easily down his cock and swallowed around him.

His free hand clenched the bed sheets below him, his heels dug into his feather mattress and he wriggled and writhed, making soft, muffled noises as his teeth bit into the skin of his hand. Rhaegar slipped down lower and Harry clenched his teeth harder as he screamed as quietly as he could as his body was wracked with a pleasure that was unrivalled in all of his, admittedly limited, experiences.

Rhaegar’s throat was soft and hot as he moved his mouth over him and the pressure when he sucked or swallowed had Harry shivering or bucking with soft little moans and groans. He was aware of Rhaegar watching him, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t control himself even if he had cared about what he looked like to his older brother, he was far too overwhelmed and the sensations were unlike anything he’d ever felt before and his reactions were completely uncontrollable.

Rhaegar started touching his inside thighs again, stroking and trailing his fingertips over the sensitive skin gently, teasingly, and Harry cried out, removing his hand and biting his bottom lip instead as he realised that he was getting louder the more that Rhaegar sucked. He covered his mouth with his bitten hand and clenched his other hand tighter in the sheets until his knuckles whitened and his fingers mottled.

 

“Rhaegar!” He cried out after a very hard, very pleasurable suck caused him to buck his hips reflexively.

 

He moved both hands to grip Rhaegar’s unbound, silver hair, tugging and panting quickly, barely getting any air, but he didn’t care, he never wanted the sensation of Rhaegar’s mouth on him to end.

He curled up over Rhaegar’s head, panting and mewling as Rhaegar sucked him closer and closer to completion. He wrapped his legs around Rhaegar’s chest and pulled his knees up under his brother’s armpits and he squeezed them with the next wail.

His orgasm hit him suddenly and with almost no warning at all as his entire body spasmed and he yelled out his brother’s name, tugging Rhaegar’s hair hard. He shivered and shook as he emptied himself into Rhaegar’s mouth before falling back, boneless and completely sated. Rhaegar had pleasured him so much more than any of the paid girls or boys he’d had in Oldtown and it hadn’t even been full sex. He couldn’t wait for their wedding night now. If it was even half as good as he’d experienced here tonight then he was not going to be moving from this bed.

Rhaegar curled up next to him and smoothed his hair away from his sweaty face, looking down at him adoringly.

 

“I just knew that I’d get addicted to watching you like that.” Rhaegar told him, touching his hip with one hand and his belly gently with the other.

 

Harry yawned, very tired now all of a sudden and he hummed sleepily, contentedly.

 

“I can’t wait until we’re married.” He said happily.

 

Rhaegar laughed gruffly, his throat raw. “Neither can I. Nor for when we have the Iron Throne. You’d be able to stay in my bed and no one could say a thing about it. I would be able to touch you publically, I’d be able to kiss you and fuck you whenever the mood struck us. I will approach Jon, Lewyn and Arthur and I will get them to act as our witnesses and as soon as they do, we’ll be married as soon as I’m able to manage it. I have a marriage cloak already, Mother gave it to me last year, just before Steffon sailed for Essos, likely in the hopes of pushing me along to find a wife sooner, but I think your old cloak will suffice. It’s more important that you wear my cloak at the end of the ceremony.”

 

“We’re swapping Targaryen for Targaryen anyway, it’s not as if the symbolism will matter much, it’s the same house.” Harry yawned wider. “But your cloak will be bigger and warmer. I want to keep it always.”

 

Rhaegar smiled happily and bent down to kiss him properly, on the mouth. Harry sighed happily.

 

“I suppose I better go before I fall asleep here with you.”

 

“I don’t want you to go.” Rhaegar groaned before he sat up. He bent over him again and kissed him before pulling down his sleeping tunic and sliding his smallclothes back onto him.

 

“I’ll see you on the morrow.” Harry sighed, even as he didn’t move a muscle.

 

Rhaegar kissed him again. “Go on, before the Kingsguard start another shift patrolling the corridors.”

 

Harry groaned pathetically but he sat up and swung himself over the side of the bed.

 

“We better be married before the end of this turn or I’m not going to be able to help myself.” He told Rhaegar as he stood, hissing as his bare feet touched cold stone.

 

Rhaegar cupped his hand around Harry’s bum and squeezed.

 

“Don’t fret so, brother. I’ll be sure to marry us together by the end of the week after tonight.” He laughed.

 

Harry chuckled too before he bent back over the bed and kissed Rhaegar passionately and lingeringly. He pulled the top sheet over Rhaegar and tucked him in.

 

“Go back to sleep now.” Harry told him.

 

“I wish you were staying here.”

 

“I wish that too, but it’s too dangerous while Father is still King. Just get some more rest and I’ll see you tomorrow, my love.”

 

Harry padded back to his own room and snuggled under the sheets, wriggling about to warm himself up. He smiled to himself in the darkness and he sighed happily. He’d be married to Rhaegar very soon and after tonight, he was certain that Rhaegar would definitely be able to please him, he just hoped that he could please Rhaegar in return. He fell asleep and he dreamed of Rhaegar’s mouth on him again, he had very pleasant dreams that night.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Over the next week, Harry got more and more excited, he didn’t know exactly when it had started, but very suddenly one day he noticed that Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn were always near him, and they were always watching him closely. It had clicked that Rhaegar had spoken to them, that he had told them of their plan to marry, and they had not gone immediately running to King Aerys. They could trust the both of them and that was the greatest feeling in the world.

He tried to carry on as normal, keeping to his usual routine and performing his regular duties as a Prince, but it was difficult knowing that his wedding was coming up and later that same day, after they’d supped with the three other members of their family, Rhaegar followed him out of the royal solar and led him far away from their family and the on duty Kingsguard, to a small room that he locked after himself. Inside the room were Ser Arthur Dayne, Prince Lewyn Martell and Lord Jon Connington.

 

“Are you serious about going through with this?” Ser Arthur demanded as soon as the door was closed.

 

“Yes.” Rhaegar answered.

 

“Begging your pardon, my Prince, I wasn’t speaking to you.” Dayne said staring at Harry.

 

Harry blinked. “It was my idea.” Harry said confusedly before turning to Rhaegar. “Didn’t you mention that I was the one pushing you for marriage?”

 

“You’re not pushing for marriage. I want it as much as you do.”

 

“This isn’t a jape?” Jon Connington asked, looking shocked and…oddly crushed.

 

“No.” Rhaegar said seriously. “The three of you are here because Haradarian and I have spoken about it and we have decided that you three are the only ones that we can absolutely trust with this delicate matter.”

 

“You’re both men!” Ser Arthur raged. “You’re _Princes_! You have a duty to the realm to provide heirs for the royal line!” 

 

“Don’t you think that we’ve thought of all of this and more over the last four years?!” Harry demanded. “Of course we have and we’ve tried, but we love one another! I will not be parted from Rhaegar and we’ll be having this wedding with or without you!”

 

“Tonight.” Rhaegar added firmly.

 

“Tonight?” Harry asked, turning to look at him happily with a grin.

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Tonight, we’ll be married in the godswood. A marriage by the heart tree means that strictly, we don’t even need witnesses, but due to the nature of our marriage, it’ll be smoother if we do have witnesses to our union.”

 

“I can’t believe that you’re even considering this!” Dayne carried on, going red faced. “What about children?”

 

“We have Viserys.” Harry said, mentioning nothing of the prophecy that said he and Rhaegar would be able to have their own children. He wouldn’t mention that until he absolutely had to.

 

“The Targaryen line is suffering, Aerys had three sons, you can’t deprive him of two of them by marrying one another!” Jon burst out furiously.

 

“Watch us!” Harry hissed back. “The Targaryen line has been suffering for decades. The Blackfyre rebellion, the Dance of the Dragons, the Spring Sickness, the tragedy of Summerhall. The Targaryen line was failing long before Rhaegar and I were even born! So what if I want to marry the man I love instead of some stupid, insipid girl that I’ll barely tolerate, let alone love?”

 

“So you’ll leave the weight of the entire Targaryen line on Viserys’ young shoulders?” Arthur asked them.

 

Harry sighed. “We were thinking of adopting Viserys as our own son. He’s still young enough.”

 

“Do you plan to assassinate the King? Your own Father.” Lewyn spoke up for the first time. 

 

“No!” Harry burst out, aghast at the very thought of killing his own Father.

 

“With the way he’s carrying on, we won’t need to.” Rhaegar added more calmly. “He’s sick and he’s completely mad. He’s killing himself by not accepting medicine or even bathing. He’s becoming more frail by the day and there is nothing that we can do, we’re watching him die before our eyes and he is refusing our help.”

 

“I’m not even going to try anymore.” Harry sighed. “I offered to make him some medicine for his cough, but he accused me of trying to poison him and threatened to have me burnt alive if I mentioned it again.”

 

“He’s gone back to threatening your life?” Rhaegar asked angrily.

 

Harry nodded. “I guess two and a half years away in Oldtown only warranted a little over a week of being pleased that I was back. I was only trying to help, Rhaegar. I know I have a lead link, but I’d _never_ poison him. I only studied poisons in the first place to try and find remedies to the more common poisons, just in case. I was just curious about it.”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself or your decision to study for your lead link! Just because you’ve learnt about poisons and how to make them does not make you a common murderer, Haradarian and I won’t have him threatening your life as if you were one. We’re going to Dragonstone.” Rhaegar said firmly. “We leave on the morrow, at first light.”

 

“Unless he forbids it again.” Harry sighed.

 

“I don’t give a fuck if he does forbid it, tonight you will become my Husband. We sail for Dragonstone on the morrow.” Rhaegar said, his voice rising slightly in his anger.

 

Harry nodded and he turned to hug Rhaegar around the middle, he sighed and rested his head against Rhaegar’s chest.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too. But we got off track.” Rhaegar sighed before turning to the three other men. “The issue here is not why we’re marrying and you can’t stop us. One way or another we will be married tonight. The issue is if you will witness for us or not.”

 

“He is a boy of fifteen, he’s not yet a man!” Jon said harshly. “If you want a man to marry, then find an actual man, Rhaegar.”

 

“It’s not just any man I want, Jon.” Rhaegar said calmly, trying to swallow back his anger. “I only want Harry. Man or woman, it wouldn’t matter. Harry is the only one who can turn my head and keep my interest. It’s him or no one in my opinion and as I’m expected to marry, and soon, it has to be Harry.”

 

“Have you even been with another man?” Ser Arthur demanded of Harry.

 

“Yes. Women too, in Oldtown. The women were…unpleasant.” Harry said with a scrunched up face while Rhaegar snorted behind him and tried to cover it up, Harry still turned and frowned at him before turning back. “I don’t think the boys I had liked me very much either. I hate whores, all they want is money and they offer no real practice or pleasure. It’s hard to take someone, or learn from them, when you know they don’t actually like you and only want your coin.”

 

“You don’t need any whores now.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“No.” Harry smiled and turned back around in Rhaegar’s arms to look at the three angry men. “We’re not asking you to like or even accept what we’re doing. We know our family’s culture and traditions sicken most other people in the Seven Kingdoms, particularly the Faith, and Rhaegar and I being together probably twice as much. We’re just asking for your trust and your help, please. We trust the three of you more than anyone else, we class you as our friends and we’re asking for your help. You only need to witness our marriage, nothing more.”

 

“Damn you both to the seven hells.” Lewyn cursed before thrusting a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll help, but only because I love you, my little friend.” He directed at Harry.

 

Harry grinned the sun shaming smile that hurt his face and he rushed over to hug Lewyn Martell happily.

 

“Thank you! I appreciate this so much.”

 

“Just…just promise me that this is what you truly want. That no one has pushed you into this and that you’re happy.”

 

“No one has forced me into this, especially not Rhaegar. He had to keep reminding _me_ that we had to wait. If you want to ask if anyone has pushed the other into this, you want to ask Rhaegar.” Harry laughed.

 

“You were too young.” Rhaegar said sternly. “You were eleven!”

 

“I just didn’t want to be apart from you. I had to run to Oldtown to make myself behave.”

 

“I thought you left because…” Arthur trailed off before he spoke treason.

 

“Because Father was threatening to burn me alive on public display because I’m a false Targaryen?” Harry asked, his voice trembling only slightly with suppressed emotion, but still Prince Lewyn’s arms tightened comfortingly around him. “I did. But I was planning to leave for Oldtown before Duskendale, remember? I announced my intentions at the tourney at Lannisport celebrating Viserys’ birth, but I wanted to wait until after my twelfth name day, but it took so long for Father to agree to let me travel to Oldtown. Then Duskendale happened and I felt that I couldn’t leave, but then Father came back and started threatening my life, so I sort of had to go, but I was productive about it.” He explained, fingering the twenty odd links of the chain around his neck in a nervous gesture.

 

Ser Arthur sighed. “Fine, I’ll help, but I don’t approve of this. Two men have absolutely no business being married together.”

 

Harry went to him next and hugged him, accepting an awkward pat to the head.

 

“You don’t have to accept it or approve of it, I’ve said. You just have to help us. We want to be married to one another. The Targaryen’s are over.” He said sadly. “I don’t like it, but it’s the truth. There are five of us left alive. Five from a whole family. Even if Rhaegar and I do marry women and have a few children each, we’re only delaying the inevitable. Our family line has ended and it ended as soon as our ancestors turned against one another and fought each other into depletion. How many dragons died in the Dance of Dragons? Two years of Targaryen against Targaryen and sixteen dragons dead. Our line started dying when the dragons did. We are of dragon blood and we have no dragons. The winters are longer and colder since the last dragon died and the Targaryens have been in decline ever since. Rhaegar and I would need twenty sons each and we’d need to take over more land than our family currently holds for them to own in order to bring our line back into prominence. Our time is over.”

 

“He’s right.” Rhaegar interrupted the long, dead silence that followed. “Our family is at an end, we have no bastards, no out branches of the family, no cadet lines, no lesser houses, there is just us two, Viserys, a mad old man and a down beaten woman who has had more stillbirths and miscarriages than any woman should be forced to live with. We’re at an end. Why shouldn’t Harry and I be happy? We can’t do anything to help our line, our ancestors have destroyed it irreparably by warring with one another. We want to marry and be happy and no one would ever make me happier than Harry.”

 

“He’s your brother.” Jon tried.

 

Rhaegar actually glared at him. “Are you insinuating that I’m simple minded, Jon?” He growled.

 

“Of course not, Rhaegar, but he is!” Jon said, almost a little too fervently and Harry wondered then and there if Jon actually loved his brother a little bit too. That made the hideous jealousy that he carried around with him flare, as it always did when he thought that someone might try to seduce Rhaegar away from him, and he strode to his brother and hugged him tight in a show of possession. Rhaegar hugged him back just as tightly, bending slightly to kiss his head.

 

“I know that he’s my brother, the Seven damn you, Jon! Don’t you think I’ve tried to talk myself out of it over these last four years? That I haven’t tried to ignore my feelings and let him have a normal life? He doesn’t want that and neither do I and neither of us can help how we feel about one another, Jon! I love him and for some reason I have yet to find, he loves me too.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Rhaegar! You’re a beautiful, talented, intelligent man, of course I love you. We may not have planned for this, but it has happened.” Harry said to his brother before turning to the others in the room. “We couldn’t have planned for it to happen, of course not, but we’ve always been very close and along the way, we fell in love. You’re either with us, or you’re going to sell us out to our Father, in which case we’re likely to be executed, so either way house Targaryen will lose two sons, at least this way, our way, we get to live and be happy with one another.”

 

“Your father is looking for a wife for both of you.” Ser Arthur told them. “He rants about it daily.”

 

“We know that, but he’s never going to find one in the Seven Kingdoms and Steffon Baratheon couldn’t find one in the free cities, what can he do? He’s never going to settle for second best for either of us, so unless he and Mother actually do have a daughter, it’s of little consequence now.”

 

“And if they do have a daughter?” Lewyn asked seriously.

 

“We’ll be married tonight. It’s too late.” Harry said. “Even if they announced, by some miracle, that they were having another child tomorrow, it’ll be fourteen or fifteen years before she’s a flowered woman of child bearing age and that’s only if they have a daughter at all and not another son. By then Rhaegar will be five-and-thirty and I’ll be thirty. We’ll be too old and she much too young.”

 

“We’ve made up our minds. We will be married.” Rhaegar said firmly. “We’ll meet you in the godswood at the second hour of the morning. I’ve prepared everything and the ceremony will take half an hour at the most. Tomorrow we’ll sail for Dragonstone as I will not risk Harry’s life with that mad man. It is unlikely that we will be coming back before he is dead.”

 

“I can’t believe we’re going to be a part of this.” Ser Arthur raged, stomping a few paces forward, turning and then stomping back, his enamelled white scale armour clanking with every step. “A part of the downfall of the Targaryen line.”

 

“The Targaryen line started dying when our dragons did.” Harry reiterated firmly. “Our fate was tied to theirs. Our lives have always been tied to them! Strange isn’t it that our family only really started failing after the last dragon died?”

 

“There must be some wild dragons left, beyond Asshai in the shadows of Stygai or even in the wilds of Sothoryos.” Lewyn said. “We can save you if we find some dragons!”

 

“Isn’t there a horde of dragon eggs on Dragonstone?” Ser Arthur asked, catching on.

 

“The rumours are greatly exaggerated, there are only three.” Rhaegar sighed. “They’re eons old and fossilised to stone. Even if the knowledge on hatching dragons wasn’t lost to us and we did know how to hatch them, they likely never would.”

 

“They’re beautiful.” Harry sighed. “Green and bronze, white and gold and black and red. They’re always hot to the touch, but Rhaegar’s right, they’re stone and unlike to hatch even if we knew what to do with them. They’re kept in the vault on Dragonstone and only a Targaryen knows how to open it.”

 

“There have to be living dragons somewhere still.” Lewyn said desperately. “I’ll sail out tomorrow and go all the way to Asshai. I’ll find a live dragon for you!”

 

“What will you tell Father?” Rhaegar asked pointedly.

 

Harry snorted. “He’ll be gone for two days and Father won’t even remember who he is.” He scoffed.   

 

“It’s a suicide venture.” Rhaegar sighed. “I’ve accepted that my family has come to its end, I just want to be happy for the remainder of it.”

 

“Me too. Now, I am going to go and bathe, you had better too. I’m not marrying a peasant farmer so I don’t want you to smell like one.”

 

Rhaegar smiled at him and Harry flitted past him, calling a dozen serving girls to fill a bath for him as soon as he made it to his bed chamber. He laid out his very best, and favourite, silk doublet. It was his most expensive too being inlaid with over two hundred rubies of varying sizes to shape out the Targaryen three headed dragon sigil, some as big as his knuckle, others as small as a droplet.

His best breeches were also black silk and of course he was going to wear his favourite black leather, ruby studded, ankle boots. He had yet to grow out of them, but they were becoming a little tarnished and ragged, he would need new ones soon enough. He was going to have them made exactly the same, he was even thinking of having the rubies taken from his old boots to use on his new ones, to give them a sense of sentimentality. It seemed ridiculous, but he was very attached to these boots.

 

“You.” He pointed at one of the serving girls filling the wooden tub as he walked into the bathing chamber. She almost swooned and passed out onto the floor. “I want my hair cut once I’m finished bathing, get someone for that.”

 

Harry stripped off, ignoring the eyes of the serving girls on him as he slipped into the boiling hot water. He was too nervous, too excited to care if they were seeing him. He was getting married tonight and he wanted to be extra clean and well dressed.

The girls flitted around him, finding excuses to stay in the room and Harry didn’t care enough to send them away as he got one of them to sponge off his back and another to wash his hair for him.

He sighed happily as the boiling water warmed him from the inside and he was pampered by numerous small, soft hands.

He still didn’t know how the whole pregnancy was going to work, or how in the hell he was going to bring back the dragons with Rhaegar, but at least he was doing it with his brother. If things all went badly, and the prophecy wasn’t actually about them after all, then at least they truly loved one another and it wouldn’t matter so much, but they’d lied pretty badly to the three other men who were involved in this little ceremony. They hadn’t given up on their family at all, just the opposite in fact, but they could have hardly told them about Harry potentially being able to carry and birth a baby with his own body, especially not when they had no idea how it was to work or even what the prophecy had meant and could not answer any questions about it. They would have believed, wrongly, that the madness of Aerys had been passed down to his two older sons also.

After his bath, Harry wrapped up in a sheet of linen to dry himself off and he sat on a stool as a grizzled old man cut his hair for him while a serving girl held a mirror up so that Harry could see what was being done. Once he was happy with his cut, he thanked the man, pressed a silver coin into his hand for a job well done and then dismissed him.

He got the girls to sweep up the cut hair and brush his body of stray strands before he dismissed them too so that he could dress. They left giggling and chatting happily and excitedly. He sighed, they were probably going to go and tell all the other servants of what he looked like without his clothes. Serving girls never changed.

He dressed in never before worn smallclothes before pulling on his brand new silk breeches. The silk doublet went on easily and Harry took several deep breaths. He smiled as he smoothed down his doublet and laid his Maester’s chain over the top. He was marrying Rhaegar tonight, in just a few short hours.

He went back to his rooms and he stayed in them, waiting, trying to distract himself as the sky got darker outside his window. He read several passages from an old scroll about medicine and child birth while he played with his chain anxiously as he waited. He already had all the potions and medicines that he needed for child birth ready. Or at least the ones used when a woman was pregnant. He’d made several additional potions and pastes that he thought that he might need and he made sure to pack them all into the solid wooden chest that he was going to take tomorrow, when he and Rhaegar went to Dragonstone.

All too soon, Prince Lewyn Martell walked into his room unannounced and gestured for him to follow him. Harry stood up, swung his cloak around his shoulders and he hurried excitedly to the side of his friend.

They made it out of Maegor’s Holdfast easily enough, but Harry’s heart was in his throat as they had to pass White Sword Tower. The tower where all the members of the Kingsguard slept when they weren’t on duty and there would be a few of them in that Tower right now and it faced out into the courtyard, the yard that also contained the entrance to Maegor’s Holdfast. If any one of them looked out of their windows, he would be seen and they would possibly raise the alarm.

 

“My Prince, quickly.” Lewyn chided him.

 

Harry followed the Kingsguard quickly to the serpentine steps. He stuck close to Prince Lewyn and together they avoided the city gold cloaks on patrol around the curtain wall battlements of the Red Keep. They made it to the godswood with no issue and it was eerily silent and still in the dead of night.

It was an acre of black cottonwood, alder and elm trees, all close together and it felt oppressive and magical here. Harry loved it in the godswood and when Rhaegar went on one of his trips to the ruins of Summerhall and didn’t want Harry to be with him, Harry came here and he spent the night looking up at the same stars that Rhaegar was looking up at, letting himself float and bob on the magical energy that surrounded him only ever in the godswood. It always helped him believe that he was closer to Rhaegar when he did so.

He saw Rhaegar standing at the heart tree and he ran the last few feet to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly, smiling up at him. Rhaegar cupped his face and smiled just as happily down at him. They turned to face the great oak, covered in smokeberry vines, the base of the tree obscured by the beautiful red dragon’s breath flowers that Harry adored. He kept a vase of the fresh cut flowers in his bed chamber at all times, they were exchanged for fresh flowers weekly.

Ser Arthur Dayne was acting as their officiator and Lewyn Martell was acting as if he were Harry’s Father while Jon stood to the side of Rhaegar with a face like thunder.

 

“Are you both sure of this?” Ser Arthur asked.

 

“I am.” Harry answered.

 

“Yes, please do this for us.” Rhaegar said softly. “We’ve been waiting for this for years, please, do not deny us now that we are here, so close to being bonded together.”

 

“We really do want this.” Harry said as the godswood remained silent. “We love one another. Please, if you can’t do this for us, then leave. We will not hold it against you, we know that we ask a lot of you, but please, if you cannot be here, keep our secret as if it were your own, I beg you.”

 

There was a deep, oppressive silence in which no one moved and no one dared to speak. Then Ser Arthur shifted and faced more centrally, his back to the great oak heart tree.

 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Ser Arthur asked tonelessly, starting the marriage ritual.

 

“Prince Haradarian, of house Targaryen, he comes here to be wed. He comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim him?” Lewyn replied and Harry could have wept in joy as he realised that they really were going to marry him and Rhaegar together.

 

“Rhaegar, of house Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to Kings Landing and the Iron Throne. Who gives him?” Rhaegar answered strong and firm.

 

“Prince Lewyn, of house Martell.”

 

“Prince Haradarian, will you take this man as your Husband?”

 

“I take this man.” Harry said happily with no hesitancy.

 

Rhaegar smiled at him and held out his hand. Harry took his hand and squeezed it. They knelt before the great oak and they both bowed their heads in silent reflection and prayer for several long, silent minutes. Harry begged that the old gods accept them, that they blessed their union and that he fell pregnant soon with Rhaegar’s child. He begged them not to sully their love just because they were both men. He asked for their blessing and their protection in the years to come, for himself, for Rhaegar, for their three witnesses and their future children too and finally he begged that King Aerys never, ever found out so that he would never have the chance to null their marriage and ruin their lives completely.

He felt a slight tingling in his fingers, the sign he always took to mean that the old gods had heard his prayers, that they had heard him and had blessed him. His breathing came faster, the thick air hard for him to breathe as the magic here concentrated in the very air. Rhaegar, just beside him, their hands linked, seemed to not even feel the magic that he did, he was breathing normally, easily, as were the three other men with them. It was only him that was affected by the swell of magic, the air that felt too thick for him to breathe as he listened to the whispers of the trees around him, as if the old gods themselves were speaking to him.

He sat back, almost gasping with no sound, and Rhaegar followed him, his older brother stood, pulling him to his feet easily and with one fluid motion, Rhaegar tugged off Harry’s cloak, letting it drop to the leaf strewn ground, and then he swung his own heavy, beautiful cloak around his shoulders, tying it at his throat and wrapping Harry in it to make him warmer in the cool night air, but Harry had not shivered from the breeze, but from the thickening air, the whispers in his ears and the growing tingling in his fingers as the magic swirled around him like a tangible force.

 

“I love you, Harry.” Rhaegar told him softly, breaking the silence of the godswood and bringing Harry from his thoughts and back into the real world.

 

“I love you…Husband.” Harry replied and he delighted in seeing Rhaegar’s dark purple eyes gleam with lust and pleasure at that announcement.

 

Rhaegar bent his head and kissed him. Only a short, hard pressure of lips, but still it discomforted the three men watching them. Again Rhaegar seemed to not feel the build-up of magic within him as their lips touched, he had no reaction while Harry felt as if he had been hit by lightning. Another sign that the old gods accepted their marriage, their bond.

 

“We need to be ready to leave for Dragonstone, are you packed?” Rhaegar asked him, ignoring the three others and that Harry himself was slightly dazed.

 

Harry nodded slowly. “I packed everything that I need to take.”

 

“Are…are you going to have a bedding?” Jon asked.

 

“We’re going to consummate, of course, but no feast and no bedding for obvious reasons.” Rhaegar answered. “This needs to be kept as secret as we can possibly make it. You tell no one, you don’t even speak aloud of this matter to yourself, or you’ll face me.”

 

Harry, still hand in hand with Rhaegar, waved bemusedly to the three men as he was pulled away by Rhaegar. As soon as they were out of the godswood, he could breathe again, pulling in the air deeply and easily, the tingling in his fingers easing off and the whispering from the trees cut out as soon as he was away from the acre of ancient trees. He said nothing, recovering from his trip to the godswood, as he was pulled back over the serpentine steps, hurriedly past White Sword Tower and they stole back into Maegor’s Holdfast. He was so excited that he could have bounced back to Rhaegar’s bedchamber. He wasn’t nervous exactly, but he was a little apprehensive as Rhaegar shut the door to his bed chamber and bolted it.

 

“Are you alright? You look worried.” Rhaegar said softly.

 

“I’m okay, you know how the godswood affects me. I am worried about our night a little bit.” Harry replied. “I’m fine, though, truly. I’ve bedded others, but I’ve never been bedded myself, so there is that anticipation in finding out exactly what it’s like.”

 

Rhaegar smiled and picked him up, much to Harry’s surprise as he gasped audibly.

 

“You’re getting taller.” Rhaegar told him. “But you’re still so tiny in my arms, you’re still so beautiful.”

 

Harry grinned happily at the compliment. “I might be as tall and as beautiful as you one day, once I’ve grown some more.”

 

“We’ve been through this, my love. You are much more beautiful than I am, though you’ll never be taller.” Rhaegar told him as he sat himself on his bed, Harry straddling his lap.

 

“I might be! You don’t know that.” Harry protested with a wide, teasing smile.

 

“It’s no matter if you do grow taller than me.” Rhaegar told him kindly before twisting and putting Harry’s back to the downy feather mattress. “I’ll still love you.”

 

Harry smiled and looped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck. He kissed Rhaegar and with that one move, their simmering passions were ignited and started boiling over.

Rhaegar easily took over and Harry allowed him, resting against the pillows and he let Rhaegar kiss him furiously, barely able to take a breath before Rhaegar was kissing him again.

The cloak came off first, Rhaegar treated it gently after Harry protested his rough treatment of it. His boots were treated the same, he’d worn them to death and Rhaegar knew that they were his favourites, and so too was his Maester’s chain, which was pooled carefully onto the table beside the bed. His doublet was eased off carefully, Rhaegar making absolutely sure that none of the large rubies caught his face or tangled in his hair, but his brand new silk breeches were all but torn off of his body and the new smallclothes that he’d chosen to wear were cut off with a simple swipe of Rhaegar’s favourite dagger.

When he was completely bare, Rhaegar just sat back and looked at him, his eyes tracing every line and dip of his body. After a full, silent minute of this, Harry squirmed and tried to cover himself.

 

“Stop it.” He complained, his cheeks reddening.

 

Rhaegar grinned and gripped his wrists and pulled them away, pinning them up by his head.

 

“You’re absolutely beautiful. Don’t cover yourself in my bed, Harry. You’re so slender and willowy, more for speed than strength, you’d be formidable in light, swift armour.”

 

“I haven’t seen you fully bare yet, I want to see my Husband.” Harry complained. Rhaegar laughed.

 

“Harry, you’ve seen me bare more times than you’ve seen me dressed.” His brother wildly exaggerated. “You’ve even washed my hair and back for me while I’ve been bathing.”

 

“The water obscured my view and every time I’ve seen you undressed, you’ve still had your smallclothes on.”

 

Rhaegar shook his head with a chuckle, but he let go of his wrists and he undressed slowly.

 

“You’re teasing me.” Harry protested, even as he licked his lips as Rhaegar’s doublet came off and bared his glorious, muscled chest.

 

Harry reached out and touched it, playing his fingers over the muscles that danced under Rhaegar’s skin.

 

“It’s no wonder that the serving girls fight each other every time you call for a bath.” Harry said. “You know that young one almost died from her injuries. You’re a hazard.”

 

Rhaegar laughed deeply, his voice already gone husky. “Are you not going to mention the poor tailor’s apprentice who was forced to touch you as you were measured for your new garb when you came home from the Citadel?”

 

“I didn’t like him. He touched me much more than was strictly necessary.” Harry complained.

 

“He was telling all the other little apprentice boys and the serving girls how soft and smooth you were. I told him that if he said one more word then I’d have his tongue ripped out. Poor thing, he almost wet himself in fear.”

 

“The tailor wasn’t much better. I want a new one.”

 

“I’m afraid you are just too irresistible, my love. I’m afraid that all tailors and their little apprentice boys will react the same to you.”

 

Harry sighed. “There’s only one thing for it, Rhaegar. You’ll have to train to become a tailor so that I can have you fit me for new clothes.”

 

Rhaegar smiled down on him and cupped his face with both hands. He bent down and kissed him soundly.

 

“I’d do anything for you, Harry. Anything.” He swore.

 

“I don’t expect you to become a tailor, though perhaps the next time I need new clothes you could sit in the room with me. Your sharp tongue and furious glares might dissuade anyone from touching me more than is needed.”

 

“Of course, you only need to ask and whatever it is, it’s yours.”

 

Harry nodded. “Then fuck me, brother. Let us consummate our marriage and make me your Husband truly.”

 

Rhaegar’s eyes were dark and heated as he bent his head to kiss him again. He tore off his own smallclothes and Harry saw his brother completely bare for the first time. He swallowed hard. His mouth dry as he stared at that glorious muscled body in its entirety.

 

“Now who’s staring, brother?” Rhaegar chuckled after a moment of silence.

 

Harry couldn’t answer, instead he reached out a small hand to touch that proud, jutting cock and he licked his lips subconsciously as he touched it gently, stroking his fingers over it and the silky, silver hair that grew around it. Rhaegar groaned at the touch and clamped Harry’s hand with his own, making him squeeze tighter. Rhaegar moved his hand on himself and it was Harry whimpering, as if Rhaegar were touching and stroking him in such a manner.

 

“Do you like that?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“It feels different touching yours to touching my own.” Harry said. “I do like it.”

 

He hadn’t really touched the boys in Oldtown either. He’d had a bit of a feel, but he’d been rough and uncaring, more curious about it than aroused so he had been a little heavy handed. Rhaegar was different, he touched him gently, reverently, as he stroked the silky soft skin of Rhaegar’s cock and he was very, very, painfully aroused while he did so.

Rhaegar groaned as Harry slid his hand all the way up and squeezed at the very tip of him, rolling the red head of him between his fingers and palm. He rubbed the head with his thumb, rolling it around just to hear Rhaegar’s husky voice catch in his throat as he threw his head back with pleasure.

Harry slid his hand back down, enjoying playing with Rhaegar this way. He had often fantasised and dreamed of how their wedding night would proceed…it was living up to his very high expectations thus far.

 

“Can I…can I lick it?” He asked tentatively.

 

Rhaegar’s eyes snapped open and Harry watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “Yes.” He replied so gruffly that it didn’t seem to be Rhaegar’s own voice.

 

Harry slid down to his belly and put his face on eye level with Rhaegar and he stared at it curiously, just looking at what another man’s cock looked like for several long moments. He played like a child finding a new toy as he pulled the skin all the way back to expose the head of Rhaegar and then he licked it. Tentatively at first, exploring, tasting. Rhaegar tasted musky, but clean. He smelt of the bath oil he’d used, the same one that Harry used himself, lemon oil imported from Dorne.

Harry licked with the tip of his tongue at first, then he used the flat of it and licked in long, broad strokes of his tongue. He turned his head and almost kissed Rhaegar, but instead he was just opening his mouth and running it up and down the length of Rhaegar’s cock, touching with his lips and his tongue too as he pushed it forward until it touched Rhaegar as he slid his open mouth up and down.

Rhaegar groaned and his large hands slid through Harry’s hair and held him still. Harry explored more, flicking his tongue over the head of Rhaegar, the tip catching the slit at the top of Rhaegar and his brother grunted and threw his head back. Harry couldn’t help himself, he did it again, then again and again until Rhaegar was making harsh, deep grunts in the back of his throat and his hips were moving subconsciously.

 

“Enough.” Rhaegar commanded as he pulled Harry away by his hair, moving him, rolling him right over onto his back and then Rhaegar’s mouth was on his, his tongue forcing its way into his mouth as his body covered his, pressing down heavily and Harry opened to Rhaegar like a bloom in the sun.

 

Harry could barely breathe as Rhaegar refused to let him catch his breath as they both panted, their chests heaving. Rhaegar was kissing him again before Harry could pull his ragged thoughts back into line and before he could suck in enough air.

Rhaegar pulled away from him and reached for his bedside table. He snatched back the jar of animal fat and a small vial of something else. It was the jar of fat he opened first and once again, he coated Harry with the partially melted fat. He brought his face down and Harry’s heart beat faster and faster as Rhaegar slid his mouth over him and Harry was taken over by the pleasures and tightness of Rhaegar’s hot mouth.

 

“Oh!” He groaned happily as Rhaegar slid easily to the base of him and then just as quickly, slid back up.

 

Rhaegar distracted him by sucking him as he opened the other vial and the smell of lemons reached him. Bath oil. His gut clenched tight as he knew what was going to happen and he moaned helplessly as Rhaegar’s fingers, two of them, rubbed and stroked over the entrance to his body gently, spreading the lemon oil all over him while his brother still sucked him.

 

“Rhaegar.” He breathed, not sure if he was begging for more or complaining at the overwhelming dual sensations of pleasure.

 

It was torturous as he bucked and writhed on the bed under the slow, painfully slow, preparations from Rhaegar. His brother continued to suck and tease him, but his finger was busy, dipping into him slightly before backing off and it was driving Harry mad.

When that single finger finally pushed into him, Harry was more than ready to accept it and he made a soft sound of pleasure as it sunk into him, stroking across his inner walls and touching places that had never, ever been touched before. He shivered from the sensations of it before a whimpering mewl was pulled from his throat by a particularly strong suck from Rhaegar which had been followed by a hard swallow.

Rhaegar’s finger had pulled out before, after a small pause, two of them pushed back into him. Harry gasped and he thrust his hips down onto those fingers to get them deeper as Rhaegar simultaneously sucked hard at the tip of him.

He rolled his hips so uncontrollably that he slipped free from Rhaegar’s mouth and he bemoaned the loss of that hot, wet suction, but the fingers more than made up for it as Rhaegar sat up, pinned his hip down and pushed his fingers into him harder, more firmly, and they touched something deep inside of him that had Harry rushing to clamp a hand over his own mouth to prevent the uncontrollable scream from bringing everyone in Maegor’s Holdfast running, particularly the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, who was on watch of the Holdfast tonight, taking over from Ser Arthur, who had abandoned his post for an hour to marry them in the godswood.

 

“You like that?” Rhaegar asked him, looking down on him with burning purple eyes. “You look so, so beautiful.”

 

“Please hurry, I don’t know how long I’ll last.” Harry whimpered, his body shivering again in pleasure as those fingers spread out inside him, stretching him.

 

Rhaegar grinned at him, all male pride and smugness and Harry threw his head back, Rhaegar’s enjoyment arousing him as much as the fingers stretching him open.

Those two fingers slid free of him and Harry forced his eyes to open and he watched Rhaegar splash more lemon oil over his hand and then he pressed them back to his entrance, this time three fingers pushed into him and he made soft noises as he kicked his heels out as he threw his head back with a deep groan.

His hands fisted the sheets and tugged at them hard, breathless pants falling from his mouth as he was stretched by three fingers that touched and stroked his insides and made him squirm in pleasure.

 

“Oh.” He panted, softly. “Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar bent down and kissed him, hard. He pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth and Harry pushed his own tongue up and into Rhaegar’s, battling almost as they did with swords, but there was no shield that Harry could use to protect himself from these feelings. He was completely open to them and those feelings and sensations became too much and he broke the kiss by throwing his head back with a garbled scream that he tried to muffle with his own fist.

 

“I can’t wait until I can hear you scream unimpeded.” Rhaegar told him in that new, rough voice that Harry was coming to realise showed just how much Rhaegar was aroused.

 

Those three fingers pulled free suddenly and Harry clenched tightly, trying futilely to keep them inside of his body, to keep those amazing, very pleasurable feelings, but Rhaegar was already moving up and over him, kissing him hard, laying on him heavily. Harry shivered as he wrapped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck, fingers clutching his head and pulling on his silver hair, as he kissed Rhaegar back. Their tongues slid everywhere, their lips were everywhere and the wet noises were almost obscene, but they enflamed Harry, ramping his passions higher as he twisted and squirmed up into Rhaegar’s body, trying to touch as much of him as he possibly could, kissing faster and harder, twisting his head to get a better angle to accept Rhaegar’s tongue into his mouth and he let out soft, uncontrollable noises, little moans, small gasps, as his pleasure only grew. 

Rhaegar ripped himself back from his mouth and he panted as if he were drowning, as if he would never get his breath back and he touched himself as Harry watched, stroking and pulling. Rhaegar found the vial of lemon oil with his other hand and he tipped it over himself, rubbing the oil in with his hand that was still stroking.

He dropped the vial and then he dropped himself back over Harry and he knew what was coming and he didn’t feel the slightest flicker of fear. Only anticipation, impatience and overwhelming pleasure that was so strong that he tried to urge Rhaegar to hurry up.

Harry felt Rhaegar touch the entrance to his body and he whimpered softly, too eager to join them together, to consummate their marriage, to wait much longer.

 

“I love you.” Rhaegar told him, staring right at him. “You’re beautiful like this, all flushed and glassy eyed.”

 

“Please.” Harry groaned and he barely recognised his own voice.   

 

Rhaegar shifted his hips and the pressure increased and increased until Harry’s body gave way and Rhaegar just slid into him easily and without resistance.

The sharp pain was something that Harry had not been expecting and he cried out loudly, flinching and closing his eyes. Rhaegar’s fingers had been so pleasurable, but this was painful and he didn’t know if he could continue with it, but he was going to grit his teeth and endure it. He wanted to be married to Rhaegar and through consummation, no one could claim that their marriage was a farce. Only their Father could annul their marriage, it’s why they needed to keep it a secret until he was dead, but this pain was very sharp and it wiped away all pleasure from his mind as he softened almost instantly.

 

“The worst is over.” Rhaegar said softly and it was then that Harry realised that he was keeping still, that he wasn’t moving within him. “The first penetration is always the worst, just keep breathing, my love, it will pass, I swear.”

 

Rhaegar rubbed his belly gently before moving his hand to Harry’s now flaccid cock and he rubbed slowly and gently. Harry moaned softly as a small sliver of pleasure creeped back into his mind.

Rhaegar stayed still within him, rubbing him gently with increasing pressure and speed. Harry was fully hard again within minutes and he was the one moving now, rolling his hips and pushing himself back onto Rhaegar with loud gasps and a gut clenching spike of pleasure.

 

“There you go.” Rhaegar said softly, moving his own hips minimally and when Harry made only pleasured little sounds, he moved more firmly, pulled out a little more before pushing back in and Harry moaned loudly.

 

Rhaegar built up slowly and carefully to full thrusting and by that time, Harry felt only pleasure again as he rocked himself up into Rhaegar, finding a rhythm together so that they worked with one another to bring the maximum pleasure to each other, the pain of only a few minutes before was completely gone, replaced with the pleasure that Rhaegar was giving to him and the knowledge that they were married together now, by faith and by body.

Rhaegar stayed low over his body so that they could kiss and Harry knew that his brother was by no means using his full force or abilities. He would get a harder, deeper thrust if he sat up, but Rhaegar wanted to keep kissing him and the low angle was much more intimate.

For all the build-up and preparation, the actual act lasted a surprisingly short amount of time and though he was gasping, panting and covered in sweat, all too soon a white hot burst of absolute pleasure stole through him and he couldn’t even make a noise as his vision whited out and he went boneless as he orgasmed, clenching tight around Rhaegar, still buried deeply in his body.

He was aware that Rhaegar was holding him, was still moving within him, but he didn’t care. He was so very blissful that he just laid there, smiling slightly, watching Rhaegar’s face twist with pleasure, his mouth parted on his own moans and grunts, those purple eyes looking down at him sometimes, other times they were closed as Rhaegar groaned as he thrust into him, holding his hips or his waist tightly.

A hot wetness spilled inside him and Rhaegar grunted several times, holding himself very still, before he fell down on top of him and he laid still, his chest heaving as he gulped in air, his face speckled with droplets of sweat.

Harry wrapped his arms around him and he snuggled his face into Rhaegar’s neck. He yawned and settled down, resting as his heartbeat returned to a more normal level. He was asleep, cuddled up with Rhaegar, within mere minutes.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

When Harry slowly woke up again, taking his time to come around in the warm, soft bed, it was already morning and Rhaegar was still fast asleep. His brother-husband had moved off of the top of him and was instead sleeping beside him, their bodies curved together perfectly as Rhaegar held him around his waist.

Harry moved gently and he groaned as a dull ache made itself known in his lower back. He sat himself up and Rhaegar stirred beside him.

 

“We fell asleep.” Harry said roughly, his voice raw.

 

Rhaegar’s eyes opened and Harry saw exactly when he realised that it was already morning. He sat up and cursed.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“No idea, but if the sunlight is that bright from the back windows, then it’s closer to noon than daybreak.”

 

Rhaegar cursed again.

 

“I told you that it was too late to go to the library last night.” Harry said loudly.

 

Rhaegar looked at him and Harry winked. His brother laughed and hugged him tightly, finding his lips and kissing him soundly.

 

“I love you, Haradarian. My Husband.”

 

“I love you too, Rhaegar. Now, let’s go down and try to explain away our very late night as studying theories on dragon eggs. We have done that often enough in the past for it to be deemed an acceptable excuse.”

 

Harry got up and he cleaned himself off with a rag and a bowl of water before dressing himself in the clean clothes that he’d left in Rhaegar’s room for this very purpose.

He went down first and Rhaegar was going to follow him later. He was a little stiff, a bit pained, but he was so happy, so overjoyed, that he put it from his mind. It was sinking in that he was now married to Rhaegar, his love. They had consummated their marriage and now, no one could tear them apart, not unless somehow, their Father found out, but he was never going to, Harry was adamant about that.

He and Rhaegar trusted the three people who had been in on their marriage and he knew that not one of them would ever tell their Father on them. They just needed to hold out now until King Aerys died. In his professional, medical opinion, it would not be very long now. Aerys was becoming more and more unstable, he was getting sicker, he was getting more and more suspicious of Rhaegar which was straining their relationship and he had gone back to threatening Harry’s life, which caused Rhaegar’s relationship with their Father to break down even further.

Harry made it to the royal solar, where the noon meal was being served, they really had slept in late. Viserys immediately jumped up and ran to him. Harry picked him up with a contorted scowl and a hiss of pain, but he bit it back and he forced his scowl into a smile instead. It likely came out as more of a grimace, but he tried his best.

 

“You were not in your rooms this morning. The servants believed you to be gone again.” His Mother told him, visibly relieved to see that he was still here.

 

“I was in Rhaegar’s room.” Harry said easily, with not even a hint that what he had done was anything wrong. “He decided that it was a good idea to start looking into the legends of Valyria and we went to the library to study a theory that he had thought of, we took those scrolls back to Rhaegar’s room and we just fell asleep there very late. His theory fell through.”

 

“It could have worked!” Rhaegar said, striding into the room and acting as though he knew what was going on even though he’d likely been listening at the door.

 

“It didn’t, a whole night wasted.” Harry groaned.

 

“What theory did you investigate?” Their Father asked.

 

“Dragon eggs.” They said together before looking to one another and laughing.

 

“Turns out that the theory had already been practised.” Rhaegar sighed unhappily.

 

“At least we know that now, but I am not working on any more theories with you so late at night. I’m exhausted.”

 

Harry saw Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn shift uncomfortably, but he ignored them. They alone in this room knew that he and Rhaegar were not studying any theories late last night and they knew, or could at least imagine, the real reason why they were both so exhausted still.

Rhaegar tore some bread and meat apart and Harry snatched some of the pieces and fed them to the three year old Viserys, still in his lap, who was very happy with the attention from his two big brothers.

Harry took his own dagger to a roasted carrot and he held it up to Viserys, who pushed it away with a frown.

 

“Eat your carrot.” Harry said sternly.

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“Viserys.” Rhaegar said just as sternly, his voice deeper and more authoritative.

 

Viserys slumped and he opened his mouth for Harry to pop the piece of carrot in. Harry ate himself, but he and Rhaegar kept feeding Viserys between them.

Harry picked at the food, Rhaegar ate enough to feed an army and Viserys tried to get out of eating any carrots or mashed turnips while Harry forced him to eat them.

Harry ate an apricot, fed some grapes to Viserys and then he excused himself, passing Viserys to Rhaegar, who was still eating, and he went to put his things into Rhaegar’s room. They had decided that to remove any suspicions, Rhaegar would pack his ship up with all of their things while Harry played with Viserys and made himself seen so that no one could guess what they were doing. When the ship was ready, then Rhaegar would come back to collect him and they would leave quickly and quietly. They didn’t plan to come back for a few years.

He took his bags and the one single chest to Rhaegar’s room and he made absolutely sure that he’d packed everything that he wanted and needed to take before he went back to the royal solar and he touched his brother’s shoulder and gave him a small nod to show him that he’d done his part, it was now Rhaegar’s turn to do his part and load their things onto his ship.

 

“Viserys, do you want to play?” He asked his brother with a smile.

 

His brother nodded happily and Harry hefted him up and kissed his cheek. “Come on then.”

 

Harry took him out into the courtyard and he was aware of Ser Oswell Whent following them out and watching over them. Harry set Viserys to running, training up his speed and stamina, but making it a fun game so that Viserys didn’t really notice as Harry chased him. When he caught Viserys, he pretended to bite his neck like a rabid beast, making his brother screech with laughter before Harry let him go again, pretending that Viserys had managed to wriggle free of the beast’s grip, and let him run for a bit, then he’d start running after him again.

He noticed with pride that Viserys got faster with each catch and release and he started dodging and ducking to avoid Harry grabbing him. It didn’t help Harry that his lower back was so stiff and uncomfortable either, or he probably would have been doing better, but he didn’t mind. Viserys was happy and this was the last time that he’d be seeing or playing with Viserys for some years.

He wished again that they could take Viserys with them, but despite being their younger brother, they would be charged with the abduction of a royal Prince if their Father had the mind to claim as such and Harry wouldn’t put it past him to do so, not anymore…using it as a flimsy, meagre excuse to finally get his way to burn him alive and disinherit Rhaegar in favour of Viserys.

Their Mother came to collect Viserys for his lessons with Maester Mellciter with Ser Jon Darry escorting her. Harry hugged Viserys and gave him a kiss and he did the same to his Mother. 

He stretched himself and sighed, looking at his own guard for the day, Ser Oswell.

 

“What do you think, Ser, where shall we go now?”

 

“That is up to you, my Prince. Where you go, I will follow.”

 

Harry hummed, thinking as he played with his Maester’s chain, considering his options. He needed to be seen, so he had to stay where others could easily see him, and it wouldn’t hurt to interact with the smallfolk a little before he left, so they wouldn’t forget him or his good deeds. He hummed to himself, his mind made up. “Perhaps out into the city then. I haven’t been out there in a while.”

 

Ser Oswell looked horrified at the mere thought of Harry wandering around Kings Landing, mingling with the smallfolk with only himself as protection. If any trouble kicked off, it would be his sole responsibility to protect him and get him back into the protection of the Red Keep and if anything at all went wrong or Harry was hurt in any way, then he alone would be held responsible for it as his personal guard for the day.

Harry made his way down to the huge bronze gates of the Red Keep and he walked through them with Ser Oswell under the watchful eyes of the city gold cloaks. Harry had his purse on him and he was going to make sure that these smallfolk remembered him and Rhaegar in their absence. They’d be gone for years, he wanted them to remember him and Rhaegar fondly, with love, as he was sure that in the coming years King Aerys would make them hate all Targaryens and forget that he and Rhaegar were decent, loving men who cared for the smallfolk.

He wandered around and he showed interest and enthusiasm in the daily lives of the smallfolk. Of course they were visibly surprised to see him. As of late it was very rare to see a member of the royal family out and about…only a handful of the smallfolk had ever laid eyes upon the three year old Prince Viserys and even then it was only a glancing view from a distance.

He bought an apple, worth only three pennies, with a copper star, waving away the change of five pennies from the vendor. He bought some bits of tat here or there from different people and he pressed copper stars into the hands of every beggar that he saw. It was the children that tugged at his heart the most however, with their rags and their bare, dirty feet, too long, tangled hair and their bloated, starving bellies.

 

“I want all the pastries that you have.” Harry ordered from a bakers, flashing two gold dragons at the wide eyed man, his equally shocked wife almost falling over a stool to start handing Harry the baked pastries. “Some tarts too if you have them.”

 

“Of course, my Prince. Of course!” The baker replied happily. A gold dragon would be more than he made in a year and a half, two of them together would mean that he could take his sickly daughter to a good woods witch and get her the medicine that she needed.

 

Harry handed over the two gold coins and he crouched down and handed the hot pastries and fruit tarts to the hungry children, touching their faces gently. The one needed medicine, he could feel the fever, the sickness ravaging him with his bare hands.

 

“Drink this, sweet one. It’ll make you feel better.” He told the little boy, who couldn’t have been older than seven, taking a bottle of liquid from his top pocket of his tunic.

 

He watched the boy drink the liquid and he took back the glass vial. He handed him another tart to get rid of the taste.

 

“You…you know medicines, my Prince?” The baker’s wife, helping him hand out the pastries and tarts, asked him.

 

“Yes, my good woman. I learnt healing and medicine in the Citadel at Oldtown when forging my Maester’s chain.”

 

Harry pulled the chain from under his shirt and showed off the half a dozen silver links. The woman looked to be warring with herself, making soft noises of uncertainty.

 

“Whatever it is, you may ask.” He insisted with a kind smile.

 

“Our Prince has just given us two gold dragons, Margram. We can get our daughter to a good woods witch with that.” The baker interrupted, wary of asking too much of his Prince who had just paid so very much for just a few tarts and pastries for orphaned street urchins.

 

Harry frowned. Woods witches were sometimes farces who took people’s hard earned coin and gave them fake potions and cures, or even just false hope, while taking every penny that the desperate people who came to them had. He didn’t hold much stock to many woods witches.

 

“If it’s all the same to you both, I would rather see to your daughter myself. I am a trained Maester with six silver links. A woods witch has none and perhaps only a fraction of the herblore that I’ve also trained for. I have five platinum links for herblore on top of my silver links for medicine.”

 

“Oh, would you?” The woman pleaded with tears glistening in her wide, hopeful eyes.

 

“It would be no trouble.” Harry insisted.

 

“Thank you, my Prince.” The woman, Margram, said softly, dabbing at her eyes. “Our daughter got sick a turn ago, we’ve been trying to save for a woods witch as it’s all we can afford, but she’s only getting worse and we haven’t got enough coin to have her seen to.”

 

Harry followed the woman into her home with Ser Oswell following behind silently, his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready and alert for any hint of an attack. He was not happy at all, Harry could tell.

He was led through the bakery, up the rickety stairs to the ramshackle home above. In one bedroom, three battered beds stood, all with old, lumpy straw mattresses. On one, a small, pale girl lay still.

Harry immediately went to her and touched her head, before peeling an eyelid back to peer into the brown eye below.

 

“How long has she been this still and quiet?” He asked sternly.

 

“Only a few days, my Prince.” The baker insisted.

 

Harry nodded as he checked what few medicines he had on him and weighed up what he needed.

 

“When did she go cold?” He asked seriously as he touched the girl’s hands and feet and found them icy.

 

“Cold?” The woman asked in panic as she seized her daughter’s hands herself. “She’s not dead, is she? I checked her not half an hour ago.”

 

“No, but its close.” Harry said as he unstoppered a vial and dribbled it slowly into the girl’s mouth, helping her to swallow by massaging her throat.

 

He did this with two other vials, from the one he tipped just a single drop into her mouth before recorking the vial and putting it back into a cloth pouch on his belt. He placed his hand back on her head before he bit his lip.

 

“Take this.” He said to the baker, handing over a few copper stars. “I need ginger and mint, as fresh as you can find.” He insisted.

 

The baker nodded and recited the two items under his breath repeatedly as he ran back through his house.

 

Harry turned to the woman. “Boiled water and a clean rag.” He said, aware that perhaps she might not have a clean linen cloth.

 

The woman nodded and hurried into a different room to gather what he had asked for.

 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be touching the sick, my Prince.” Ser Oswell warned him when they were alone.

 

“She’s a little girl, Ser. I will not leave her to die in such a manner. It is beyond cruel when she has such a treatable sickness. If this sickness of hers is not contained and cut off at the source it will spread through the entire of Kings Landing like wildfire, putting all of the smallfolk at risk. It particularly affects young children, so Viserys would be at risk too if this contagion is allowed spread. I cannot allow that to happen.”

 

The woman hurried back to him with a bowl of clean, boiled water and a cleaner rag than Harry had been expecting.

 

“A cup, please, good woman.” He said as he picked up the rag and started folding it over.

 

The woman hurried off again and came back quickly with a clean, clay cup. Harry dipped it into the boiled water and put it to the side. He dipped the rag, wrung it out and he laid it over the girl’s throat. The baker came back all too soon with a piece of ginger and a bundle of several stalks of mint. Harry was pleased to see that there were several large, mature leaves on each stalk.

Harry took them and he used his own silver dagger to slice up the ginger and he added it to the cup of boiled water before tearing up a few mint leaves and adding them as well. He used his dagger to carefully stir the stewing mixture, aware that silver also had healing properties.

He checked on the girl, re-dipping the rag and applying it back to her throat before he went back to the mixture. He checked the temperature with the back of his knuckle and then he carefully removed the bits of ginger and mint and then he helped the girl drink it by slowly dribbling it down her throat a bit at a time so that she didn’t choke. As soon as the drink was finished, Harry checked the girl’s hands and feet again and he nodded. They felt warmer than they had when he’d arrived.

 

“She’s going to be fine.” He said calmly. “Keep her in bed for the next few days, she should have only water and a thin broth. In two, maybe three days, then try her on something more substantial and she can try walking, but not too far. After a week she should be back to her active, happy self.”

 

Harry stood, trying to ignore the woman sobbing gratefully onto her Husband. He was about to turn away when brown eyes blinked open. He smiled and ignored the red blush that turned those pale cheeks feverish.

 

“Hello there. I wasn’t expecting you to wake for another day at least. You are a very strong young lady.”

 

“H…hello.” The girl stammered.

 

“Oh…oh sweet girl. I was so worried.” The woman, Margram, insisted as she fussed about her daughter.

 

“I shall take my leave. Remember to keep her resting for a few days, plenty of water and broth.”

 

“Thank you, my Prince.” The baker said almost tearfully. “Allow me to see you out.”

 

Harry and Ser Oswell took their leave of the bakers and they found that the little street urchins had eaten their pastries and tarts and had vanished. Harry breathed in the fresh air, even if the smell of shit and urine was strong down here in the city proper of Kings Landing.

He carried on his walk, handing out more coins and buying more rubbish that he didn’t actually want, but it was making the smallfolk remember him, from the bakers and food vendors, to the market sellers, right down to the street orphans. He was making friends and he hoped that no matter what his Father did in the next few years, that the smallfolk remembered this day when thinking of him and of the time when he had ruled the Seven Kingdoms while the King was a hostage for half a year. He hoped that they remembered that they had named him Haradarian the Heart, because if they didn’t remember, then the Targaryen family was done. If all they remembered was the mad king, then it wouldn’t matter what he and Rhaegar did, the Targaryens would be over.

He sighed and made his way back into the Red Keep, his purse now considerably lighter, and he made his way to the royal solar where he supped with his family, Rhaegar sat beside him, looking very pleased with himself. Obviously he had accomplished all that he had needed to. As soon as the meal was done, they both said their goodnights to Viserys and their Mother, and out of courtesy their Father too, before they left the royal solar.

They did not go to their rooms however, instead they stole out of Maegor’s Holdfast, avoided White Sword Tower and then they snuck out of the Red Keep, keeping to the shadows and out of view of the patrolling Gold Cloaks, making it all the way down to Blackwater Bay where Rhaegar’s crew were preparing his ship to leave for Dragonstone.

Rhaegar escorted him onto the ship and got him settled in his personal cabin while he oversaw the preparations to launch the ship and within fifteen minutes they were sailing to Dragonstone and Rhaegar joined him in the cabin. It wasn’t a very long journey to Dragonstone, but still, the both of them found a very pleasurable way to pass the time until they docked again. Harry barely noticed the sailing as he laid in Rhaegar’s arms, his body slick with sweat and his lips bruised from Rhaegar’s impassioned kisses.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> A/N: I am so overwhelmed by the response this fic has had, for such a taboo subject too, but thank you all. I’ve loved hearing your thoughts on this fic and your excitement for the following chapters is infectious! I couldn’t wait to finalise this chapter so that I could post it up for you all.
> 
> Chapter three is, of course finished, and will be starting when Harry and Rhaegar sail back to Kings Landing from Dragonstone a year after they left…the chapter is a MASSIVE 49,000 words currently, so that is going to take me a while to get through, I might even have to split the read through into three days just to get it done properly, and I’m back in work this week too, so it’s going to take a while to get that one done. It is the biggest chapter for this fic, as the main bulk of the plot happens in chapter three, and thus I found it hard to skim it down anymore (I already split it in half and created another chapter when the word count surpassed 65,000 as this fic was only supposed to be four chapters and an epilogue, so we have an added chapter from that.)
> 
> But the next chapter will be up as soon as I can bring it to you now, I hope that you continue to love it as you loved the first chapter and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter now, thank you for reading,
> 
>  
> 
> StarLight Massacre. X


	3. 281AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mpreg, breastfeeding, incest, slash, non-explicit rape, imprisonment, torture, mutilation, male castration, execution.
> 
>  
> 
> Last Time
> 
>  
> 
> They did not go to their rooms however, instead they stole out of Maegor’s Holdfast, avoided White Sword Tower and then they snuck out of the Red Keep, keeping to the shadows and out of view of the patrolling Gold Cloaks, making it all the way down to Blackwater Bay where Rhaegar’s crew were preparing his ship to leave for Dragonstone.
> 
> Rhaegar escorted him onto the ship and got him settled in his personal cabin while he oversaw the preparations to launch the ship and within fifteen minutes they were sailing to Dragonstone and Rhaegar joined him in the cabin. It wasn’t a very long journey to Dragonstone, but still, the both of them found a very pleasurable way to pass the time until they docked again. Harry barely noticed the sailing as he laid in Rhaegar’s arms, his body slick with sweat and his lips bruised from Rhaegar’s impassioned kisses.

**** Chapter Three - 281AC

 

Ser Barristan Selmy missed the two older Princes. They had both sailed to Dragonstone a year and a half ago and they hadn’t been back since. They had ignored all summons from their Father to return to Kings Landing until last week, when Grand Maester Pycelle had announced that a raven had come and that the two Princes were coming back to Kings Landing. The week before, Lord Walter Whent had announced a tourney to be staged for his maiden daughter’s name day at the end of the year. Barristan smiled, there were no doubts in his mind about why Prince Rhaegar was coming home and it was entirely to do with the tourney at Harrenhal to be held later that year.

It had been bleak and at times very hard to stand stoically to the side and watch as the King he was sworn to protect burnt people alive on a mere whim. He still heard their screams, their pleads, as they swore on the Seven that they had not done whatever crime they had been accused of…Barristan had believed more than half of them, but the King’s justice these days was simple, if you were accused then you were guilty and your punishment was always death by fire. It was the same punishment for murderers, rapists, a street brawl or petty theft. It was a new level of madness that had taken over the realm and it stemmed from the lack of sanity of their King. If the King was unstable, then the realm suffered and the Seven Kingdoms were suffering now under King Aerys the second, but he and his sworn brothers had taken an oath to protect this mad, unstable King, so that is what they did, even if they didn’t like it and hated themselves for standing behind this cruel, vile man.

When the two Princes had sailed to Dragonstone together without warning one evening over a year previous, the King’s madness had only seemed to get worse. He went back to ranting and raving that Rhaegar was plotting against him, that Haradarian was a bastard boy being hidden under his nose and that he wouldn’t allow for it. He had proposed, yet again, to burn Haradarian alive on public display so that all the people and the gods could see that he rejected the boy, and that had been the hardest to hold his tongue on. The burning of an innocent boy, a boy he saw as his own son, but his sworn brothers all coached one another to hold their peace once they were safely within the walls of White Sword Tower. He joined them, calming them, and himself in the process. Haradarian was away and refusing to answer the summons of his Father…only now the Princes were returning. Today according to their raven.

He was terrified that the tensions would grow too much, that the loyal factions to Aerys would clash against those loyal to Rhaegar and those loyal to Haradarian. Fights had already broken out amongst the smallfolk over who was loyal to the King or to the Princes, or even those loyal to one Prince over the other. If that came to pass then he would have to choose between his sworn duty to the King, or to the man he believed would be a better King and to the boy he saw as his own son. It would be a hard choice, a terrible choice, but though he would find it difficult to break his oath, he would find it twice as difficult to follow any order that harmed Rhaegar or Haradarian in any way. He didn’t even think that he would be able to stand by as someone else was ordered to harm those two. He’d watched them grow from newborn babes, to boys, to men. They were dear to him, Haradarian in particular.

He and two of his sworn brothers, Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Oswell Whent, were standing on the harbour of Blackwater Bay, waiting for Prince Rhaegar’s ship to dock. They could see it from where they were standing, the Targaryen flag flying proudly and the massive carved dragon’s head on the prow.

Of course, over a year away was a long time and Haradarian was now a man at six-and-ten. Barristan could see him on the head of the ship, tall, so tall, the silver hair of Rhaegar stood behind him, the gap between them wasn’t quite as pronounced as it was a year ago, the younger Prince was growing tall and strong.

The biggest surprise came in the form of a tiny little babe in Prince Haradarian’s arms as he wobbled his way down the gangplank to solid ground, aided by his older brother.

 

‘Thank the Gods’ The Prince complained. ‘I thought I’d be thrown overboard.’

 

He was holding the obviously unhappy babe close, holding a tiny hand, but as he turned his head to check on the babe, Barristan noticed that they had exactly the same colour of hair. He swallowed. His boy had had his own babe while he’d been away on Dragonstone.

It made his worry double, if the King was still planning to harm Haradarian, what would he do to this little, vulnerable babe? He did not think that King Aerys would give him the babe as a boon as he had done with Dontos Hollard after the Defiance of Duskendale, besides that he could not stand the mere mention of Haradarian coming to harm, something would have to be done and soon. There was an innocent babe involved and two innocent young men, the reign of King Aerys the second could not be allowed to snuff out the lives of three innocent Princes on a whim. It could not be allowed.

 

281AC

 

Harry smiled tiredly as Kings Landing came into view. He held on tightly to his little son, Rhaegon, as they hit another wave that almost took Harry’s feet from under him. Thankfully the waters were calmer as soon as they came closer to land. It wasn’t a long trip from Dragonstone to Kings Landing, but sometimes if the weather was wrong, the waters were dangerous. Today was one such day as he slid all over the deck, trying to keep his feet, as the choppy waters rocked the ship from side to side.

Rhaegon whimpered in his arms and Harry kissed his black crown of hair.

 

“It’ll be alright, my love.” He said softly. “We’re almost there.”

 

“Are you both alright?” Rhaegar asked, coming over and holding Harry around the waist and kissing his son’s head, much as Harry had.

 

“Rhaegon is a bit unsettled. He doesn’t like how unsteady the ship is.” Harry answered as he patted Rhaegon’s tiny back. “Neither do I for that matter.”

 

Rhaegar held him tighter and he lent his weight to steady them a little more. They had spoken extensively about what to tell everyone once they reached Kings Landing and they believed that it was safer if they claimed that Rhaegon was Harry’s son with a Volantenese woman who had died in childbirth, as Rhaegon had Harry’s black hair, but he had taken Rhaegar’s purple eyes. They didn’t want Rhaegon to be claimed as a bastard child, so they had to say that Harry had married the woman in Volantis shortly after they’d left for Dragonstone a year and a half ago.

They’d paid three servants who they had brought with them to say that they had been servers at the wedding and the two of them had drilled all the details they were going to use themselves to get everyone to believe that Harry had married and had a baby whose Mother had died in childbirth when in reality, he had carried Rhaegon and had given birth to him himself. No one knew of that part and they weren’t going to until after King Aerys was dead. The reality was he had come back from Volantis heavily pregnant and he’d given birth just days later with Rhaegar at his side in their shared bed in the fortress on Dragonstone. He’d duped the servants and attendants at Dragonstone into believing that he’d had the baby with him upon his return from the funeral of his Volantenese wife.

He had been scared, of course, but overall, though the most painful thing that he had ever experienced in his life, he felt that it was all worth it as he held his baby son in his arms.

A year and six turns ago, when they’d gotten married for the first time, he had had no idea how he was going to bring back the dragons, now he knew. He only had the one son, but he’d been pregnant twice in the year and a half that he’d been away. Only Rhaegon had been a human baby, the other pregnancy had delivered him of a single dragon egg. The egg hadn’t hatched, much to his and Rhaegar’s devastation. The beautiful red egg had been laid carefully in the dragon vault with the three fossilised eggs of their ancestors. There they were locked in and sealed until he and Rhaegar found out how to hatch their unborn baby, it was half the reason that they were heading back to Kings Landing, so that Rhaegar could pick up the old, ancient scrolls and books that they were hoping would hold the key to hatching the dragons.

 

“How are you feeling?” Rhaegar asked, putting a hand on the gentle roundness of Harry’s belly.

 

Harry smiled and held Rhaegar’s hand against his gently curved belly. He was pregnant again, only just as he believed that he was less than a single turn pregnant, and his belly was soft, not as hard as a rock. He was having a second human child, not another dragon egg. His belly went like a steel shield when he was pregnant with a dragon egg.

 

“Queasy.” He answered truthfully. “I’ll be happy to get both of my feet on solid ground before I vomit, but I’m not as bad with the Mother’s sickness as I was with Rhaegon. Or at least I’m not yet.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it, you have no idea how worried I was to see you so unwell while pregnant.” Rhaegar told him with a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

 

“My Prince, we’re almost at land.”

 

Harry sighed. “I can see the Kingsguard on the shore.” He said. “Unless someone else is waiting on the banks in white armour and white cloaks.”

 

“It’s the Kingsguard, or at least a few of them.” Rhaegar nodded. “Come, let us prepare for landing.”

 

It took several more minutes until they docked and immediately they had people doing everything for them and Rhaegar helped Harry disembark with Rhaegon. Harry was so happy to get solid ground beneath his feet again, he could have gotten onto his knees and kissed the ground. He grinned at the shock and surprise on the faces of the three Kingsguard members.

Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Oswell Whent and a very confused, shocked looking Prince Lewyn Martell, who had been there for their small wedding and knew that they were dedicated to one another.

 

“Who is this?” Ser Oswell Whent asked first, recovering from his shock well.

 

“This is my little son, Rhaegon.” Harry answered as he hefted the boy higher on his hip.

 

“A bastard child?”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to control the urge to physically attack the one who had insulted his babe. “No.” He answered angrily. “He is most certainly not a bastard child, how dare you try to claim as such!”

 

“Peace, brother.” Rhaegar soothed. “You get married and bring a baby back to Kings Landing, you can’t expect people to just know these things without telling them first.”

 

Harry sucked in a breath and he blew it out again.

 

“You’re married?” Ser Barristan Selmy asked. “Have you brought your Wife?”

 

Harry made a show of biting his lip and looking away. He shook his head and walked away with Rhaegon.

 

“His wife died in childbirth.” He heard Rhaegar telling the Kingsguard. “He doesn’t want to speak of it, he was devastated and Rhaegon is a permanent reminder. He’s just six turns old. Malana, Harry’s late wife, only carried him to seven turns so Harry had to face the fears of losing them both. He wasn’t even married for nine turns when she birthed Rhaegon and died. Do _not_ mention her.”

 

Harry smiled and he made his way to the Iron Gate. Prince Lewyn Martell caught up to him quickly.

 

“I know that you haven’t really married anyone else, it wouldn’t be legally binding because you’re already married. Where did the boy come from if he is not a bastard?” He demanded under his breath.

 

“Later.” Harry said back. “Just know that he’s not a bastard and I never married again. I will explain, with Ser Arthur and Lord Connington too, later tonight. Just stick to the story.” Harry demanded.

 

“He has Rhaegar’s eyes.”

 

Harry smiled adoringly at his little son. “He does.”

 

“It’s not possible!”

 

“Later!” Harry hissed as Rhaegar caught up to them with the other two Kingsguard members just behind him.

 

They were escorted all through Kings Landing from the Iron Gate, smallfolk seeing them and clapping and cheering. Harry smiled at them all as he clutched Rhaegon tightly, it seemed that they remembered the good that he and Rhaegar had done for them, even with their long absence. He was very pleased.

Rhaegar handed out a few small coins, making them a bit more popular with the smallfolk, but very soon they made it to the bronze gates of the Red Keep and they were escorted right into Maegor’s Holdfast…then his mummer’s skills were really put to the test.

 

“Who is this, darling?” His Mother asked immediately as he walked in to the royal solar with Rhaegon on his hip. His six turn old boy was getting tired from the early morning and the rough sea voyage across Blackwater Bay. He was hiding his face in Harry’s jerkin.

 

“My son, Mother.”

 

“You sired a bastard child.” His Father, who was looking older and sicker than Harry could have possibly imagined, sneered cruelly. His attitude had not improved with their absence this time, it seemed.

 

“No.” Harry said with a clenched jaw. “I married a Volantenese woman fifteen turns ago.”

 

“Is she worthy?” His Father demanded.

 

“Where is she, darling?” His Mother asked.

 

Harry sighed. “She was named Malana Maegyr…”

 

“She was of the Maegyr’s?” His Father interrupted to ask happily, looking very pleased. “Was she of the main branch?”

 

Harry nodded. “A younger daughter, but that mattered little to me. Not that it matters much anymore as she died in childbirth.”

 

“Oh, Haradarian. I’m so sorry.” His Mother said softly.

 

“Let me see the child, a boy?” His Father cut across.

 

“A boy.” Harry nodded. “Rhaegon.”

 

“Rhaegon?” His Father asked as Harry reluctantly handed over his and Rhaegar’s son to the filthy, unkempt man. He made a mental note to wash Rhaegon extra thoroughly later.

 

“I wanted to call him Rhaegar, but Rhaegar thought that it would be too confusing to have Uncle and Nephew both named Rhaegar and he instead suggested that I name him Aegon. I compromised and named him Rhaegon. It has to be better that Aegar, though I’m sure that Rhaegar just wanted to be the first and only of his name for a little longer.”

 

“You caught me out, brother. That is entirely why I stopped you from naming your son Rhaegar and insisted that you named him Aegon instead.” Rhaegar said dryly.

 

“I knew it!” Harry said with a laugh.

 

His Mother giggled and took the baby from Aerys, who had held him out to be taken from his weakened arms.

 

“How old is he?” She asked as she cradled the sleepy baby lovingly.

 

“He’s only just six turns, Mother. He was born two turns premature, but he was strong and he has only grown stronger.”

 

“He’s so beautiful, much like you were, Haradarian.” His Mother sighed. “His eyes?”

 

“Malana’s.” Harry said with a falsely sad smile.

 

“Did she have trouble carrying?”

 

“I didn’t think so. She seemed to carry okay…” He said unsurely, thinking back to his time being pregnant. He had had a few problems throughout his pregnancy, mostly based in ignorance as he didn’t know what to expect from being pregnant, but he had done well, or so he had thought.

 

“She carried just fine.” Rhaegar said firmly. “She laboured for almost three days to bring Rhaegon into the world, she was just too exhausted to keep herself from the Stranger’s arms after that.”

 

“Almost three days? The Seven above, it’s a wonder that she managed to get Rhaegon out at all. What did Maester Uther say? Did he do anything?”

 

“Rhaegon was born in Volantis, Mother. Maester Uther wasn’t there, so he didn’t attend to my Wife, I did myself.” Harry said softly.

 

“Then it’s not a wonder that the poor girl is dead.” His Father sneered and Harry snapped his back straight and he glared right ahead.

 

Malana wasn’t real, but he was still very offended to hear that his Father didn’t think him capable of birthing a baby when he had six silver links to his chain and Maester Uther only had two. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood, but it was no good, he took his son from his Mother and he walked out and to his own room without saying a word.

He’d left Rhaegon’s beautiful cradle at Dragonstone, but he would be sure to buy a suitable one later, for now, Rhaegon could sleep with him. They could both use a nap.

He made it up to his bed chambers and he bolted the door. He kicked his boots off and he slipped into his bed that had been aired out before he’d arrived. He wanted to spend his time here in Rhaegar’s bed, but the servants would talk and that’s the last thing that they needed. Rhaegon was the most important thing to him and to Rhaegar now, neither of them would needlessly risk him.

He sat in his bed with Rhaegon lying on his back between his legs and Harry just watched him as he squirmed around and cooed gently, before he yawned and chewed on nothing for a moment and his purple eyes drooped. Harry rubbed his chubby pot belly in slow circles and Rhaegon eventually drifted off. Harry rubbed his own belly and he smiled.

He was only two weeks pregnant, three weeks at the most. They had come back to Kings Landing because there had been a tourney at Harrenhal announced, hosted by Lord Walter Whent, Ser Oswell Whent’s brother, for his maiden daughter’s name day at the end of the year. Rhaegar had actually set up the entire tourney and he had sponsored it with prizes. He also wanted to attend the tourney, as he always did. Harry couldn’t participate, despite being sixteen and now an official man, because he was pregnant and had a young son to think of.

That had been why Rhaegar had called for the tourney at Harrenhal and had sponsored it with prizes that no one could ignore, because Harry was pregnant again with a second child. Rhaegar had subtly called a Great Council under the pretext of the tourney at Harrenhal. He was going to talk to the Lords of the realm about the removal of the declining, unstable King. They couldn’t wait any longer. King Aerys might have been their Father but he was ruining the reputation of their family and very soon, it would be irreparable, even if he and Rhaegar were to take the Iron Throne, they would hold no respect or love of the people of the Seven Kingdoms and that was something that they could not allow to happen. Not to mention that Harry was going to start swelling soon with his second child. He had explained Rhaegon away by claiming his wife had died in child bed. He couldn’t have another child, who could possibly look exactly like Rhaegon, after he’d claimed that his wife was dead. King Aerys needed to be gone before he gave birth for the third time, to his second child.

The door handle jolted as someone tried to open the door to his bed chambers and then someone rapped on it smartly.

 

“Harry, its Rhaegar.”

 

Harry smiled and he stood up and slid back the bolt, opening the door for his Husband.

 

“Are you okay?” Rhaegar asked, slipping into the room and closing the door behind himself, bolting the door again.

 

Harry nodded. “I know it’s not real, but hearing someone blame me for someone else’s death, even a fictitious death, it hurts, Rhaegar. I have six silver links, six! Do you know how rare that is? I could be a strong contender for the next Archmaester of healing and medicine if I’d taken the oaths, but no, just because I’m young, if anything goes wrong in my hands, it’ll be my fault.”

 

Rhaegar held him and took him back to the bed where Rhaegon was sleeping peacefully.

 

“Would…” Harry cut himself off and he sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Whatever it is, get it out.” Rhaegar told him softly as he touched Rhaegon’s fluffy black hair.

 

“Would you have blamed me if Rhaegon hadn’t made it?” He asked insecurely, playing his fingers around his Maester’s chain.

 

“Absolutely not.” Rhaegar told him. “Our son came two turns early, babies have died when they’re born full term. If Rhaegon had died, I would not have blamed you, Haradarian. I love you, you’re my Husband and I’ll always support you through such things.”

 

“What if I lose this baby? What if there’s nothing that I can do and we lose this baby?” He asked worriedly.

 

“Please don’t worry about such things.” Rhaegar told him, placing a hand over his belly. “You’re newly pregnant and the stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know that. I know. What he said is getting to me though.”

 

“I hate him even more for that.” Rhaegar growled. “Come and rest. I’ll take Rhaegon.”

 

Harry baulked at that idea and he placed a protective hand over his son.

 

“I won’t let any harm come to him. It’s difficult for me to be away from you both. You’re going to be sleeping with him every night while I’m alone in my own rooms. I’ve been there every day and night since he was born and now I have to pretend that he’s just my Nephew.”

 

Harry sighed and bit his lip. He nodded.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be selfish with him, I just don’t want to be back here. I’m so worried and I’m scared that he’ll do something to Rhaegon.”

 

“Not with me there he won’t.” Rhaegar said protectively. “I would die for him.”

 

“I definitely do not want that either!” Harry exclaimed, but he sighed and picked up a sleeping Rhaegon gently, kissed him and handed him over to Rhaegar, who cradled their boy protectively in his muscular arms. “I only want to sleep for a bit to catch up on last night. Come back and call me in two hours?”

 

“Of course I will, my love. Just get some rest.”

 

Rhaegar kissed him on the mouth gently and tucked him in one handed as he held their son with the other.

 

“Love you.” Harry said as he snuggled his face into the soft, feather pillow.

 

“I love you too, Husband.” Rhaegar said softly. “I’ll take care of our son, you take care of yourself and our unborn babe.”

 

Harry rubbed his belly and nodded, his eyes already closing.

 

“I’ll put Lewyn on the door so that you can keep it unbolted.” Rhaegar told him, but Harry just hummed, already drifting off in the warm, cosy comfort of his childhood bed.

 

Rhaegar laughed and he left his Husband to his sleep as he carried their son out of Harry’s bed chamber and closed the door softly behind him. He would come back in a few hours to wake him up, but until then, he wanted his Husband to sleep for as long as he could, completely undisturbed.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry was woken up with a sweet kiss to his lips and he smiled, at least until, with a very loud screech, Rhaegon joined in and slapped his cheek.

 

“No, Rhaegon! We don’t do that to those we love.” Rhaegar chastised.

 

Harry peeled his eyes open and he groaned. “I feel like I’ve only been asleep for a few moments.”

 

“I left you as long as possible, it’s been just over two hours since you went to sleep and now it’s time for the noon meal. You need to eat.”

 

Harry groaned and forced himself upright, taking Rhaegon, who had outstretched his arms for him to take.

 

“How has he been?”

 

“Great, he needs a bit of milk though. He had a few berries that I squashed up for him, but he needs you.”

 

Harry nodded. “Is the door bolted?”

 

Rhaegar nodded and sat on the bed with him as Harry lifted his many layers of clothes, unlacing his jerkin, lifting his tunic and slipping his one arm out of it and he exposed his nipple to Rhaegon, who snuggled into his chest, latched on and started suckling at Harry’s milk.

 

“I love watching you feed him.”

 

“I just wish that he’d be gentler. He sucks so strongly and now that he’s growing in teeth, he’s biting.” Harry grimaced as he endured feeding his growing son.

 

Rhaegar smirked and he cupped Harry’s other small breast in his hand and rubbed gently, knowing how incredibly sensitive they were. Harry moaned loudly and he shuddered.

 

“Not while Rhaegon’s feeding.” He complained half-heartedly.

 

“I can’t help it, you’re so beautiful and I really do love seeing you feed our son with your own body.”

 

“He’ll want to sleep again after this, how long was he down before?”

 

“Not long.” Rhaegar chuckled. “Viserys wanted to say hello.”

 

Harry chuckled too. “How is Viserys?”

 

“A little subdued I think. He wasn’t his usual self but I think he has missed us a lot in the last year and a half that we’ve been away.”

 

“I wish that he was ours.” Harry said sadly. “If he were we could take him away with us.”

 

“He hasn’t been harmed.” Rhaegar insisted, even as he petted Rhaegon’s black hair as he suckled. “He’s just lonely with no brothers here, Father won’t let him play with anyone for fear that they’ll do him harm.”

 

“He is still overprotective of Viserys then?”

 

“Viserys yes, us, not so much. I’d been here for an hour and he accused me of plotting for my succession over him.”

 

Harry chuckled. “You are.” He said in barely a whisper.

 

“He shouldn’t know of that.”

 

“He’s entirely mad, Rhaegar. He accused you of the same years ago and you were not planning as such. He’s grasping at straws and if we don’t slip up, he’ll never truly know of such things.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “He doesn’t want to come to the tourney at Harrenhal, which is a blessing. It’ll be much easier to progress with things without him there.”

 

Harry nodded, more than a little distracted by his feeding son, but Rhaegar always liked to sit with him while he fed their child. He liked talking when he was sat watching Rhaegon feed too.

 

“I might actually settle down and stop walking as if my back is going to be attacked if he’s not going.” Harry said, feeling Rhaegar’s chest rumble through his back as his Husband hummed.

 

Harry sighed, partially in relief, as Rhaegon finally let go of his nipple and Harry put the six turn old over his shoulder and patted his back as Rhaegar rubbed the feeling back into Harry’s abused skin for him.

Rhaegon made a soft noise and Harry tucked him back into the crook of his arm, watching as he slipped slowly off to sleep.

Rhaegar was the one who tugged down his tunic, back over his one arm and laced up his jerkin for him, settling it back around his body properly. Harry checked to make sure that no odd lumps were visible and that nothing could be seen, but his breasts were not that big, barely enough to cup in one hand, and truthfully the jerkin was enough to keep them out of sight, but Harry was slightly paranoid. He didn’t like them and to him they were completely obvious and visible, though Rhaegar swore that they weren’t.

He stood and Rhaegar immediately shadowed him. Once he’d had their son, Rhaegar had been doing that a lot, following him, protecting him and Rhaegon, always there to lend a hand if Harry needed it and there to support him if he didn’t need any help. Harry stopped and Rhaegar bumped into the back of him because he was walking that incredibly close to him, Harry grinned and tipped his head back for a kiss before he unbolted the door. Rhaegar obliged him happily.

 

“I need to get something from my room, a moment. I left it there to come and wake you.”

 

Harry nodded as he settled Rhaegon more securely in the crook of his arm. Rhaegar hurried down the corridor to his own rooms and Harry made his way to the royal solar for the noon meal.

 

“Prince Lewyn, I trust that you are well?” He asked as the man immediately fell in behind him from where he had been guarding the door to his bed chamber on Rhaegar’s orders.

 

“I am, my Prince. I trust that you and your babe are well?”

 

“We are, thank you. I needed to catch up on some sleep. Rhaegar has been helping, but there is only so much that he can do as an Uncle and Rhaegon isn’t sleeping through the nights yet.”

 

“Does Rhaegar do much nightly care?” Prince Lewyn asked.

 

“His fair share, of course. But most of the night care is left to me. Rhaegar helps where he can, but there’s only so much that he can do after all.”

 

“You too I would imagine.”

 

“Oh no, you couldn’t possibly imagine what I do.” Harry replied cryptically with a smile, making Lewyn ever more curious about the puzzle before him. 

 

Lewyn looked for a moment like he’d question him, but a servant girl hurried past with dirty linen cloths and Prince Lewyn knew well enough to remain quiet in such public areas.

 

“There he is, there’s my beautiful boy and my first grandson.” His Mother said happily. She was practically overjoyed to be a grandmother.

 

Harry smiled and he took note of all the people in the room automatically. His Mother, his Father, Viserys and the Kingsguard. There were servers dotted around too, moving dishes and filling cups, but he paid them no mind.

 

“Mother, Father, Viserys.”

 

“I missed you earlier! I was in my lessons.” The five year old Viserys insisted, moving seats so that he was sat right next to him. He peered into his arms and into Rhaegon’s sleeping face. “Is he really my Nephew?”

 

“Yes, Viserys. This is my son, Rhaegon. I’m sure that Rhaegar has already introduced him to you.”

 

“He’s sleeping again! He was asleep earlier too.”

 

“Rhaegon is only six turns old, Viserys. He likes sleeping more than anything else.” Harry smiled as he put the sleeping baby over his shoulder and held him with one hand while he picked and tore at the food around him with the other.

 

Rhaegon shifted himself a bit in his sleep, his face snuggling more into Harry’s neck and his legs tucking up further.

 

“Is he safe like that?” Viserys asked. “His arms and legs are all trapped and squashed.”

 

“He can’t use his arms or legs yet, Viserys.” Harry explained patiently. “He needs me to hold him at all times, see my hand here.”

 

“What if he falls?”

 

“I won’t let him.” Harry smiled as he ate one handed. It was very difficult, usually Rhaegar cut his food up for him or they took it in turns to hold Rhaegon while the other ate. He hated being back in Kings Landing.

 

“Will the boy require a wet nurse?” His Father asked. It was the most civil he’d been to him since he’d arrived back from Dragonstone.

 

“No, Father. Rhaegon hasn’t had a wet nurse for the last few turns. He started rejecting his original wet nurse, so I changed her, but Rhaegon rejected the one after and the one after her. So he’s eating little pieces from the table. He likes berries, soft things that he can easily eat without chewing. Very small pieces of fish is good too, as well as soups, mashed carrots and turnips. Anything that’s near enough already chewed and just needs swallowing he can eat.”

 

“Rhaegar fed him some crushed berries earlier, I was so surprised.” His Mother told him looking at the babe so happily. “Rhaegon is so strong for how young he is, two turns premature too.”

 

Harry grinned. “He’s growing so much faster than I would have imagined too. I remember Viserys as a babe, but I don’t remember him growing that fast.”

 

Rhaegar entered the solar and he automatically sat next to Harry without thinking about it, his nose buried in an ancient book. Obviously what he’d gone back to his rooms to collect. He had already started on looking up ways to hatch their unborn dragon and they hadn’t been back for three hours yet, Harry was very proud and he fervently hoped that Rhaegar found the answer, the key to hatching the dragons.

His Husband put his book down after a moment before he pulled Harry’s plate towards him and he used his dagger to cut everything up and then shoved it back at him.

 

“Thank you.” Harry said simply, eating much easier now that he didn’t have to wriggle and flick his wrist about to get bite sized pieces of food.

 

Rhaegar cut up his own food before he buried his nose back into his book, the both of them eating one handed.

 

“What are you reading now?” Harry asked.

 

“Hmm? Oh, the Histories of Dragons.”

 

“You’ve read that book several times now.” Harry complained.

 

“I’m reading it again to see if I missed anything.” Rhaegar explained.

 

Harry sighed, but he nodded acceptingly. He finished eating before he turned Rhaegon back down into his arms. His son complained the movement with a soft sound, but his eyes stayed closed. He stayed asleep.

Harry took a drink from his goblet before he rested back in his chair.

 

“Is Rhaegon going to wake up and play now?” Viserys asked.

 

Harry chuckled. “Not yet. He won’t be able to play for a long while yet, remember he can’t move his arms or legs properly, he can’t walk yet.”

 

“How does he get about?” Viserys asked.

 

“I carry him everywhere, Viserys.”

 

“Or I do.” Rhaegar added without removing his nose from his book.

 

“You swore to me that you’d help after Malana died.” Harry reminded.

 

“I did and I will.” Rhaegar smiled at him, finally taking his nose from his book to look at him.

 

“Eat your meal.” Harry told him as he picked up Rhaegon between both hands and watched adoringly as his little knees pulled up so he was in a tiny ball, he laid his son back down into his other arm.

 

“If you ever need a moment to yourself, darling, you know where I am.” His Mother insisted as she finished off her own food.

 

“Thank you, Mother. I’m finding it difficult to handle the lack of sleep. With Rhaegon refusing a wet nurse and refusing to sleep through the night, I’m not getting much sleep at all.”

 

“Is that why you went to sleep like a mere babe yourself?” His Father sneered.

 

“Yes, Father.” He agreed easily, readily able to see the truth in the statement and big enough to ignore the insult. His Father’s new civility hadn’t lasted even a half hour.

 

“Can I hold him?” Viserys asked, not able to sense the tension around him. Or perhaps he was just so used to it at his young age that he was easily able to brush it off. That thought made Harry inexplicably sad.

 

“Can you be gentle?” Harry asked him.

 

Viserys nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Make a cradle with your arms.” Harry told him. “Like I have.”

 

Viserys looked and he copied the exact position of Harry’s arms. Harry picked Rhaegon up again and his son complained with a short whine, but Harry laid him gently in the cradle of Viserys’ arms and he settled again easily.

 

“He’s so heavy!” Viserys complained as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

 

Harry laughed happily. “That’s the sign of a healthy baby.” He told his brother. “It’s good that he’s so heavy. It means that he’s feeding well and he’s not sick.”

 

“He’s too heavy.” Viserys complained shortly, moving to twist himself further towards him, indicating for Harry to take the babe again.

 

Harry laughed and he hefted his boy up again, who cried almost angrily and those dark purple eyes opened a slit to peer around him, likely wondering what all the movement was.

 

“Oh, you’ve been moved about too much, haven’t you?” Harry cooed as he sat Rhaegon on the table and held under his arms as his son all but glared at him for the interruption to his sleep.

 

Rhaegar immediately put his book down and touched the soft, chubby cheek of their son. Rhaegon looked at his Father and grinned, making soft sounds of delight.

 

“That’s charming, he glares at me, but for you he’s all smiles and giggles.” Harry complained.

 

“Of course. I am his favourite Uncle after all.” Rhaegar chuckled.

 

“I am!” Viserys protested and Harry laughed.

 

“He’s going to be spoilt with you two around him, I can already tell.”

 

“That’s what you’re for.” Rhaegar said. “To stop him from becoming a rotten little Princeling.”

 

Harry smiled. “I believe you’re right. Though I have to be Mother and Father to him and I don’t know how.”

 

“That won’t be an issue if you get remarried.” His Father told him.

 

Harry’s shoulders hunched. “I couldn’t. Malana hasn’t been dead for a year yet. I do not believe that I could ever love another.”

 

“You need to produce more than one measly son. You will be married again.”

 

“I won’t.” Harry argued.

 

“I’m telling you that you will be, as soon as someone worthy is found.”

 

Harry breathed heavily and he stood up and swung Rhaegon onto his hip, holding him securely as he stormed out of the royal solar for the second time in three hours, and he carried on out of Maegor’s Holdfast. He walked down and then back up the serpentine steps and he went to his most favourite place that wasn’t in Rhaegar’s arms. The godswood.

He sat under the great oak heart tree amongst the overgrown, red dragon’s breath, feeling the pulse of magic that was always here that set his fingertips tingling and forced his breath to come shallower, more rapid, and he put Rhaegon down on the grass. He looked up at the clink of armour and he locked eyes with Ser Barristan Selmy.

 

“Am I being selfish, Ser?” He asked after several, long minutes of silence while he watched Rhaegon wriggle and giggle in the long grass, feeling the magic of this place seep into his body, energising it, making him feel like he was swelling, about to burst at the seams, even as he wasn’t. “Perhaps as a Prince I’m not meant to marry for love, perhaps as a Prince I’m not allowed to grieve for the Wife that I have already lost so young, too young. Is it my duty to just keep breeding until I’m no longer able to? Taking wife after wife as soon as the previous is no longer able to have children, or perhaps we go back to our Valyrian roots and I take more than one wife at a time. Is being born as a Prince mean that I cannot have anything for myself? That I cannot have love, a life of my own, a dream of my own? I never asked to be born, so why must I give up everything that I want for the life that my Father wishes me to have?” 

 

“It is not my place to tell you, my Prince.” Barristan told him.

 

Harry sighed. “I did not expect Malana to die so young. She was so beautiful, so full of life, and I killed her by planting Rhaegon in her womb. Perhaps that was wrong of me also. Perhaps it was wrong of me to tend to her myself while I’m so young, regardless of how learned, I was inexperienced. I didn’t think that Rhaegon was a big baby, he looked so tiny to me, but Malana laboured for so long, she could not get him out and I feared that I would lose them both. I forced her to push, I never gave her a moment’s rest for fear of my child. I pushed her beyond what she could endure and now I will carry that regret for the rest of my life. As I tell our son why he has to grow up without a Mother. It was my fault, I’ll have to say to him, I pushed her too hard, too much, and instead of giving up on my unborn child, I forced my wife to push out my child and it killed her.”

 

“It is not my place to say, my Prince, but it is to my knowledge that any Mother, young or old, would have preferred that their child lived over themselves.”

 

“Do you really think so?” Harry asked, considering that seriously and exploring his own thoughts and emotions on the matter and he came to the conclusion that, yes, he would have much rathered that he had died if it would have given his beautiful Rhaegon a chance at life. “Malana was so exhausted by the end that she did not even have the breath to say a single word. I helped her to hold Rhaegon to her breast as her arms were too weak to do so herself and then…then she slipped from my hands into the Stranger’s hands. I could not say what went wrong, I do not know why she laboured for so long when Rhaegon was so tiny, perhaps she was just too young. She was recently flowered when we married and she didn’t fall pregnant right away, but so too have many other Ladies who got to live. Why my Malana? Why the woman _I_ loved? Am I meant for another whom I have not yet met? Am I meant to have only tasted the briefest of happiness only to never feel that way again?”

 

“Those are all questions for the Gods, my Prince. Only they know the answers you seek.”

 

Harry sighed and nodded. He smiled at his Rhaegon, who was clutching his own feet and giggling.

 

“I do not know what I would have done if my boy had not lived either.” He confided softly. “He was early, but strong from the start. I am ashamed to admit that I sunk into grief for the first few days after his birth. His care was left mostly to Rhaegar and a wet nurse. I could not…I did not know how to handle such overwhelming emotions. Such sadness and grief as which I have never before felt in my life. I never want to feel anything of the sort again. Another wife could harm Rhaegon like Father’s mistress did to my brother, Jaehaerys, to put her children closer to the top of the succession, I just can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry again. I won’t take that risk with Rhaegon.”

 

Ser Barristan remained quiet and Harry sighed. The truth of the matter was that he had absolutely no choice in any decision made about himself or Rhaegar, or even Rhaegon, despite being considered a man now at six-and-ten and Rhaegon being his son, his Father could still overrule any decision he made. He was still ruled by his Father’s demands, as all nobles were subject to the whims of the Lord of their house.

Maybe it _was_ time to get their Father off of their backs once and for all about their marriages. It wouldn’t be ideal, but if he and Rhaegar each married some worthy woman, as long as they never consummated, then those marriages could be nulled by the High Septon at a moment of their choosing, most particularly, after their Father’s death or his discrowning and dethroning as then Rhaegar would become King, and no one, not even the King’s Father, told the King what to do.

He sighed again and picked up Rhaegon. They would have to be incredibly careful about who they picked as wives as the women would have to be in on their marriage to each other too and Rhaegon needed to be protected at all times as his highest priority. He needed to speak with Rhaegar as a matter of urgency.

He stood and he hefted Rhaegon over his shoulder, his son letting out a soft, happy coo at the movement that made Harry smile. He started moving, leaving the godswood and Ser Barristan fell in just behind him, his hand always drifting near the pommel of his sword.

As soon as he was out of the godswood, his breathing evened out and he could suck in a nice, deep breath of air and the magical feeling eased out of his body, almost like he was deflating, leaving him feeling slightly bereft, but much better as he could breathe easier and he could think much more clearly.

He made it back into Maegor’s Holdfast and he quickly navigated the corridors to Rhaegar’s room. He knocked firmly and then entered. His brother was sat in his chair, but Ser Arthur was in the room with him, as was Prince Lewyn.

 

“Ser, you may take your leave as you see fit.” Harry smiled at Ser Barristan. “It seems that we are to be very well protected here.”

 

Ser Barristan nodded his head and he left them be, closing the door behind him. Harry bolted it closed before he walked over to his Husband and then offloaded Rhaegon onto his Father before falling onto Rhaegar’s bed happily.

 

“Your loose tongue could have gotten you killed.” Rhaegar told him unhappily. “You can’t argue or reason with a mad man, Haradarian. It’s too dangerous to try.”

 

He sighed. “It was an automatic response. I’m too used to being on Dragonstone.”

 

“It would serve you well to remember that we are _not_ on Dragonstone any longer. The things we say or do here could get us killed or worse, it could get Rhaegon killed.”

 

“I know. Which is why I’ve been thinking that perhaps we should get married.”

 

“What do you mean?” Rhaegar asked immediately, his voice thunderous.

 

“Any marriage you have now would not be legally binding.” Prince Lewyn told them frostily. “With all the trouble that you went through to get married in the first place, forcing us to become involved too, I would not think that you would so easily break your vows!”

 

The Prince of Dorne was obviously referring to Rhaegon and Harry’s supposed infidelity, but Harry ignored that for now.

 

“Exactly! No marriage now would be legally binding. The marriages would be covers only, a ruse to stop Father from marrying us to whomever he pleases while keeping us safer behind the protection of a false marriage. If we chose rightly, the women will know of our marriage and their purpose as a cover. If we don’t consummate, and we won’t for respect of the Ladies that we marry and the love we hold for one another, we can nullify them as soon as Father is dead due to non-consummation of our marriage vows. The Ladies will be unsullied and still maidens, free to marry again as they please and they will forever hold our favour for helping us.”

 

“This idea has merit, we would have to choose very wisely, though.” Rhaegar said thoughtfully as he realised what Harry was truly getting at as he bounced his son on his knee gently, thinking hard. “Women are like to gossip and by telling them, we endanger ourselves and Rhaegon too. A woman who wants to be a Princess or even Queen is not going to react favourably to an annulment of marriage, a woman who truly wishes to be our wives is not going to accept us laying with one another and not doing our husbandly duty to them. A woman who has any desires or schemes to put her children on the Iron Throne cannot even be considered. We need to evaluate all the Ladies in the Seven Kingdoms and find, not one, but two who fit such a mould. I do not think we can do it, Harry. People hide who they really are and what they most desire, how can we tell if we’re picking correctly? If we make the smallest mistake or miscalculation then we and Rhaegon could all be executed.”

 

Harry bit his lip. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought that any woman would actually pick a marriage that is truly a farce. A marriage that leads to no pleasures and no children, what would be the point of it for them? They would have to be willing to put up with it for however long it takes for Father to pass into the Stranger’s hands. Only the Gods know how he’s still clinging onto life while he’s so sick and unkempt. Personally I think he’s stubborn enough and cruel enough to make our lives a complete misery before the Stranger takes him. He’s ruining the Seven Kingdoms, ruining the Targaryen name and trying to ruin our lives first, before he passes on.”

 

“He won’t succeed.” Rhaegar said strongly. “This has gone on long enough.”

 

“You mean to kill him?” Arthur asked.

 

Rhaegar shook his head. “I ordered the tourney at Harrenhal. I snuck back to Kings Landing some time ago and, covered head to foot, I found Ser Oswell. I bid him to go to his Lord brother and schedule a tourney the likes of which the Seven Kingdoms have not seen before. I am the shadow sponsor of Lord Whent for the tourney prizes. While there I am going to hold a Great Council and I am going to ask the opinions of all the Lords present and I will ask them to remove Father as King and put me in his place. I do not want him dead, he is still my Father, but his reign cannot continue in this manner. He is killing people without trial or proper judgement, he has turned the Great Hall into his personal furnace so that he can burn people on a whim whenever he pleases. The Kingdom has fallen into decline, the people are suffering without a proper King. The finances are ramshackle, the smallfolk’s grievances are not heard or they’re just ignored, the King’s justice is non-existent and at the head of the Kingdom is a man who won’t bathe or groom himself, rambles about fire and burns whomever he pleases without thought for consequences. It is enough.” Rhaegar said sternly.

 

Harry nodded. “Enough is enough. The reign of King Aerys the Mad must end. I will not bring my children into this…this insanity! If he can threaten to burn me, then he can do the same to them. If he sees me as a bastard of the Targaryen line, then so too are my children. I won’t risk them, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar kissed Rhaegon and held him close. “I agree fully with you, my love. Our son must not be put in such danger. I won’t allow it.”

 

“Your…your son?” Prince Lewyn stammered.

 

“Rhaegon is mine and Harry’s son.” Rhaegar confirmed. “We thought it easier at the time to claim him as Harry’s son because of his dark hair. Perhaps, with hindsight, it might have been safer to claim him as mine.”

 

“I was thinking the same. But Rhaegon still needs milk. He needs to sleep with me still. Perhaps we should have delayed our return, and the tourney, for another year, but with each delay, the Kingdom suffers. It is hard to pick which to put first. But even if we had waited, there is no guarantee that we wouldn’t be in exactly the same position as we are now, we can’t know for certain that Father will be dead within a year and by then we’ll have another dependent child who’ll need milk like Rhaegon does so we could be in exactly the same position.”

 

“You said that Rhaegon didn’t need a wet nurse.” Arthur pointed out confusedly.

 

“And he doesn’t. I make enough milk for him.” Harry said simply, letting that sink in for a moment before dropping the next bewildering revelation. “I carried Rhaegon within my own body. He is mine and Rhaegar’s child.”

 

“Impossible!” Ser Arthur spat.

 

“What black magic is this?” Prince Lewyn hissed.

 

“Just because I studied the magics and occult in the Citadel does not mean that I am practicing any dark magics or sorcery!” Harry said firmly. “Do I look like I’m Asshai’i to you?” 

 

“Are you actually a Lady?” Ser Arthur asked uncomfortably.

 

Rhaegar laughed uproariously at the question, but Harry glared, his face going red with temper. “No I am not a thrice damned Lady!”

 

“I can attest to that. He is a man.” Rhaegar chuckled, wiping his one eye.

 

“Then how?!”

 

Harry sighed and he unlaced his jerkin and took it off, he lifted his tunic enough to show the slight roundness of his belly…and the long, thick, puckered scar from where he’d cut Rhaegon free.

 

“That…that was done with a blade…that deep a belly wound should have been fatal!”

 

“It would have been, had I not been heavily pregnant at the time it was created. The blade went into my womb, not my guts. I do not have the correct parts, so Rhaegon had to be cut free of my body.”

 

“I suppose we should start at the beginning.” Rhaegar said softly. “When I was four-and-ten and Haradarian was but nine years old I unearthed an old scroll that had come from Old Valyria, written in High Valyrian. It was thousands of years old, how many thousands before it came to Valyria, I could not even estimate. Upon the scroll was a prophecy, one pertaining to my own family. The prophecy foresaw Haradarian’s birth and named him the Prince who was promised. Haradarian was claimed as the saviour of the Targaryen family, who at the time of the prophecy’s making, were very large, very prosperous and surrounded by dragons. Yet the prophecy foresaw their decline, of both the family and the dragons. It claims that the Prince who was promised would usher in a new age of the dragons with his own body.”

 

“Are you going to try to say that Rhaegon is a dragon in human form?” Prince Lewyn demanded. “That fire will set him free? I have had enough of the Targaryen follies with fire! How many of you must die from your unnatural fascination with fire before you realise that it is a fool’s errand?”

 

“We will let that insult slide, as you are our friend and we realise that this is a difficult, impossible, concept to comprehend, but beware your tongue, Prince of Dorne.” Harry warned. “No one, absolutely no one, is to put Rhaegon to death by fire. I would throw myself on a sword before I allowed any harm to come to him.”

 

“Then what are you saying? What did the prophecy mean?” Arthur asked.

 

Harry sighed and shared a look with Rhaegar. “We didn’t know at first.” He answered softly. “We thought that perhaps the used word of dragon was a euphemism for child, as the prophecy named both Rhaegar and I dragons also and called us dragon breeders with its text too. The exact words that followed the dragon breeders described them as a pitch haired Prince and his silver haired rider.”

 

“How did you know that pertained to Rhaegar?” Prince Lewyn asked.

 

“Earlier in the text it alluded to the silver haired rider and said that he was needed to mirror his black haired brother. It could only mean me as I was the only brother that Harry had at the time we found the prophecy.” Rhaegar answered.

 

“I see Viserys more as a son.” Harry added. “The prophecy could never have meant me and him…only me and you.”

 

“And the prophecy said that I was to teach you and instruct you in all things. Viserys, as your younger, could not have done as such.” Rhaegar reminded.

 

“You…you started planning your marriage at _nine_?!”

 

“Of course not, I was much too young to think of such things at nine. It took me many moon turns to read the text, many more to understand it and what it meant. I passed my thoughts back to Rhaegar, who passed his thoughts to me. I was…a young eleven, I think, when the notion of marrying Rhaegar first came into my head, more like whimsical daydreams than true planning, but the idea took storm and I told Rhaegar, who was horrified as I was so young. But I started getting jealous of those who swooned over him. At the tourney at Lannisport for Viserys’ birth, when I was almost twelve, I could have slayed half of the Ladies in attendance for the way they were looking at Rhaegar, how they touched him, how they spoke to him and tried to get him into their beds. I couldn’t stand it. Around that time we started actually thinking about marriage as a certainty, knowing that we would be married together, but not truly how we’d manage it. That came years later.”

 

“Those women are no threat to you and of no consequence. It is you I love, our son proves that our marriage is fortuitous, that the Gods have blessed us. We are the ones whom the prophecy foresaw, you are the Prince who was promised.”

 

“Tell me the prophecy you found exactly as it was written.” Ser Arthur said, looking more and more like he believed them and from the expression on his face, Harry gathered that he couldn’t believe himself for believing in something so seemingly impossible, but he wasn’t shouting or looking at them as if they were as mad as their Father any longer and that could only be a good thing at this point.

 

Harry and Rhaegar shared a look and Harry smiled, leaving the decision up to Rhaegar, who sighed and settled himself in his chair. Rhaegar had memorised the prophecy down to the last letter, looking for hints in the wording as to what it might mean. If anyone could recite it from memory without the scroll there in front of him, it was Rhaegar.

 

“High Valyrian is a very difficult language to understand, but I dedicated my early youth to reading and understanding it, the prophecy I found was written in High Valyrian, but translated into the common tongue, it reads as follows.

 

‘Heralded by a bleeding star, born amidst smoke and salt the dragon age begins anew.

The Prince who was promised comes forth, a dragon breeder sword in hand, to deliver the world from darkness.

Alongside comes the second dragon breeder, the silver haired rider to mirror his black haired brother. He who must teach him, instruct him, in all things, to stay by his side and show him the way.

The dragon breeders of dragon blood, a pitched haired prince and his silver haired rider, will bring back the dragons who were lost. With their own bodies entwined together, their passion will flourish and spark new life, between them their babes shall be created and born. With fire and blood it shall be completed, for the Prince who was promised is born to his purpose and his purpose is a song. The song of ice and fire.’”

 

There was silence in Rhaegar’s bedchamber for long minutes, the only sounds was the snuffling of a bored Rhaegon as he contented himself with playing with his own foot on his Father’s lap.

 

“The prophecy speaks strictly of two dragon breeders, one silver haired, one pitch, being able to lay with one another and create and birth children. Rhaegar and I have done as such.” Harry said into the silence. “Rhaegon is our son, planted in me by Rhaegar and I cut him free of my own body after seven moon turns of growth.”

 

“Why not leave him to nine?” Ser Arthur asked.

 

“How did you know it was time to cut him out?” Prince Lewyn asked almost at the same time.

 

Harry grimaced. “I would have left him if I could, but though I do not have the parts, Rhaegon still told me when it was his time to come out and I had a labour. The most agonising, panic stricken, chaos ridden labour I could possibly have ever imagined. A pain I have never known before, or since, ripped through my womb and back, collapsing my legs under me as they would not work, and at the time I feared that they would never work again. All I could do was scream. Scream and scream as the pain tore through me akin to some wild beast on a rampage. I could afford no pain relief, no knock out medicine as Rhaegar held my hand steady as I sliced through my own body to free our son. I had to pull out my own birthing parts and stitch myself back up before I could even take one drop of the milk of the poppy, before I could even stop and rest, there was blood everywhere, I’ve never seen so much blood before. I was knocked out for days afterwards, gulping milk of the poppy like water to even bear the pain of it as I had the tightly stitched wound bathed four times daily with a mixture of boiled water, vinegar, salt and cloves and thankfully no infection set in. I am however, scarred for the rest of my life.”

 

“Will you…will you have more?” Prince Lewyn asked.

 

Harry nodded. “Of course, I am already pregnant with our second child. It took two turns for my wound to fully heal, another turn after for the pain to ease and another turn again before Rhaegar stopped treating me like I was made of porcelain or glass. We started sleeping together again soon after. I am a turn or so pregnant, but definitely less than two turns.”

 

“What about the dragons?” Ser Arthur asked. “The prophecy said that you’d bring back the dragons, have you figured that out as well?”

 

“Partially.” Rhaegar answered as he looked at Harry, this time giving him the option of speaking or not.

 

“We only have Rhaegon, but I have been pregnant twice in the year that we’ve been married.” Harry explained.

 

“You’ve been giving birth to dragons!” Prince Lewyn gasped.

 

“Not exactly. Rhaegar and I have conceived a dragon’s egg. I’ve birthed one thus far, they only take four turns to mature enough to want to come out and the pain is not as bad as when I laboured with Rhaegon, which is why I certainly wasn’t expecting the amount of pain I felt when I went into labour with him, but they are harder to get out though, I have to cut almost from hip to hip to slip the eggs out and the egg I have birthed has not yet hatched. The knowledge of hatching the eggs is lost…do I leave them, incubate them? Do I put them in fire and if I do, what fire? Ordinary fire, wildfire, or will only dragon fire be enough? I just don’t know and I can’t take such a risk with my babies. I never want any harm to come to them.”

 

“We’ll figure out a way to hatch them. Until then, this one is going to keep us very busy.” Rhaegar soothed as he held onto Rhaegon tightly as their son chased down his own foot, stretching down to reach it, gripping it and then pulling it up to his mouth so he could suck on his own toes.

 

“So…so you might be pregnant with an egg?” Ser Arthur asked. “A real dragon egg?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, our second human child. The eggs feel different inside me. They’re big and bulky and they feel like stone after the first turn. Human babies are softer, lighter, though they grow bigger as they remain inside of me for longer.”

 

“I can’t…I can’t even believe this.” Prince Lewyn said as he rubbed his forehead. “You actually had a baby! You’ve given birth not just to a child, but to dragon eggs?”

 

“That’s correct.” Harry said as he laid back on the pillows and yawned.

 

“You…forgive me, but this is difficult enough, but did you…you mentioned giving him milk. Are you producing milk for Rhaegon, are you…do you have…?” Ser Arthur asked.

 

“I have grown in breasts that are producing milk for Rhaegon to feed from, yes.”

 

Harry was aware that both men were looking at his chest and he glared at them, covering his chest over more firmly with his crossed arms.

 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t look at my Husband’s breasts.” Rhaegar told them stonily.

 

“You won’t see them anyway, as I’m a man, they’re tiny. Full of milk they’re barely a handful and they’re easily covered with clothing.”

 

“Sorry, my Princes. It is a little strange.” Ser Arthur pleaded.

 

“It is.” Harry agreed. “We know this, and we understand that we’ve had years to get used to the prophecy and what it means and that springing it upon you in such a manner is a very shocking experience. I just wanted you both to understand what’s happening, especially after you helped us get married in the first place. You deserve the real explanation and this is it. Rhaegon is our son, we’re going to have another baby in another eight or so turns if I don’t birth early again. I’ve birthed a dragon egg that is also Rhaegar’s and we need to get King Aerys off of the throne before I give birth to this second child. I can explain away Rhaegon, but I can’t invent a second wife who also dies in child birth.”

 

“I have a younger sister, Ashara.” Ser Arthur told them after a moment’s silence. “She is young, but if I have your permission, I could ask her if she would be willing to marry to one of you. I am involved, if she sheds light on you both, she is as good as killing me too.”

 

“You would do that, for us?” Harry asked, very touched.

 

“I would do anything for you and Rhaegar. You’re my friends.” Arthur said sincerely. “Ashara is young, she is flowered and gets a lot of attention, but our brother wishes for her to marry for love and Ashara has refused all who have come seeking her hand thus far.”

 

“Thank you, Ser.” Harry said genuinely.

 

Prince Lewyn sighed. “I’ll speak to my sister also, she has a flowered daughter, Elia, who she is trying to find a match for. If I explain the situation then she might agree to the match for the bond it would rekindle between Dorne and the crown. I am in the same position, if my sister or Elia say anything, I will be killed also.”

 

“We thank you, my friends. From the bottom of our hearts.” Rhaegar said as he stood and embraced the two men one after another, Rhaegon coming with him.

 

The six turn old boy squawked at the movement and at being squashed twice between two men, and Rhaegar laughed, hefting him higher, facing him outwards so that Rhaegon could see what was going on around him. Curious purple eyes peered around the room and at everyone within. He cooed when he saw Harry and chubby hands lifted to outstretch towards him.

Rhaegar took four long strides over to the bed, kissed Rhaegon and handed him to Harry, who snuggled the boy to his chest.

Rhaegon gave a hungry whine and nuzzled into his tunic, rooting for his nipple and Harry actually blushed.

 

“I…um. Excuse us.” He sat up again and shifted to put his back to the three men and he lifted his tunic and slipped his one arm free. He pulled Rhaegon close to his chest and his growing son latched onto his nipple hungrily and suckled strongly. The noise was audible in the silent room and all those present knew what was happening.

 

“I…should we leave?” Ser Arthur said uncomfortably.

 

“Just…stand where you can’t see. This is so embarrassing!” Harry complained, utterly mortified that his son had wanted a feed with the other men in the room.

 

Rhaegar came to sit behind him and he kept to their ritual, he played with Rhaegon’s hair while his broad shoulders and back blocked Harry’s body from the two members of the Kingsguard who were stood awkwardly, watching them uncomfortably, listening to the sounds of wet, fervent suckling.

Once Rhaegon was done, Rhaegar played with his nipple to sooth it and then he helped Harry slip his tunic back on.

 

“Are you alright? Did he bite?”

 

“Doesn’t he always?” Harry groaned. “I don’t think he drew blood this time, which is a blessing.”

 

“Do you need any ointment?”

 

“Don’t fuss, Rhaegar, my love. If I needed ointment I would have made it and applied it myself.” Harry kissed him to take the sting from his words.

 

“I want to take care of you.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“And you do, Husband. So very, very well. Stop fussing so much.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and then grimaced as he smelled a foul odour. “Has he…?”

 

“Well it certainly isn’t me!” Harry laughed as he unwrapped Rhaegon and took away his soiled smallclothes, wiping him off with a clean section before replacing them with the fresh smallclothes handed to him by Rhaegar. “Put these into the basket to be washed.” He ordered.

 

Rhaegar took them and put them in the basket they were using for all of Rhaegon’s soiled smallclothes and he put it outside his bedroom door for the servants to take. They had ordered a waste basket to be placed in Rhaegar’s room as well as Harry’s as he had been taking care of Rhaegon too. Of course everyone outside of this room believed that Rhaegar was Rhaegon’s uncle. They would only find out when the time was right. When he and Rhaegar had the throne for themselves.

The Kingsguard would be the first to be informed, so that the two of them could veto their reactions and make sure that they were protected by those around them before telling the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms and then, after those, the remainder of the peoples of the Seven Kingdoms would be told.

There were obviously going to be those who were angry or disgusted with their choices, those who would claim that they’d used dark magic or sorcery to get Rhaegon. Those who would try to harm them, which is why they needed the Kingsguard on their side first and foremost as their highest priority.

It was going to be difficult, none of them disputed that, but they were going to make it work. Harry firmed himself and he picked up the freshly dressed Rhaegon, wrapped him in a shawl, and he kissed Rhaegar before he took his son on a walk to go and see his Mother.

Prince Lewyn stuck close behind him and Harry breathed easily. King Aerys was done for, not even his Kingsguard were willing to put up with his mad ruling anymore. Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur were stood firmly beside him and Rhaegar. Ser Oswell was willing to stand by Rhaegar’s claim to take the throne from his Father and if Harry had to put his life in anyone’s hands, it would be Ser Barristan. That left only the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, and the two remaining members of the Kingsguard, ancient Ser Harlan Grandison, who was too old to perform any strenuous duties, and the newest member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jonothor Darry. Harry believed that the hardest one to win over would be the white bull, the Lord Commander himself, who prided himself on upholding his honour and duties to his sworn King, who was, currently, Aerys the second.

Prince Lewyn kept his hand on his pommel at all times and it was because, Harry realised, that he was treating him like a pregnant ruling Queen. He placed his free hand on his slight bump and he smiled. He needed to be careful, but he’d done this before, he knew what to expect this time around.

 

“I’m alright, Lewyn.” Harry said with a smile. “I’m not going to be showing for a while yet. No one knows and they couldn’t possibly guess about my condition. Rhaegon is the most important person to protect here, not me.”

 

“I disagree, my Prince. Forgive me, but if Prince Rhaegar were to lose you, then we’d have a ruler little better than the one we have now. I will protect all of you until my dying breath.”

 

“I know you will. You’re a wonderful friend, to both of us. If there is anything that we can ever do for you, please, just ask.”

 

“Just…look after my niece, Elia, if my sister agrees to this plan.”

 

“Of course we will. Rhaegar and I will have the utmost respect for the both of them, and for your families. It won’t be for very long, it’ll just keep us all safer. I have to think of Rhaegon now. He is the most precious person to me and to Rhaegar, if anyone found out the truth with the situation as it currently is, then Rhaegon would be killed and that’s completely unacceptable. Our boy will always come first, along with all other children that follow.”

 

“Will you have another boy?” Prince Lewyn asked.

 

Harry chuckled. “We are still capable of having a daughter, Lewyn. I wouldn’t mind either way. Rhaegar just likes having someone to play his harp to in the nights. He’s going to miss doing that while we’re here.” He sighed.

 

The two of them fell silent as they reached the main corridor in Maegor’s Holdfast and he travelled down to the royal solar, there he found his Mother embroidering on a soft chair by the fire while attended by the two Septas’ that his Father had ordered to be beside her at all times. They even slept with her in her bed at night. That would stop as soon as he and Rhaegar had the throne, anyone caught disrespecting his Mother would be held in complete and utter contempt.

 

“Mother.” He greeted with a smile as he sat in a chair beside her.

 

“Haradarian, darling. Are you well?”

 

“I am. How are you?”

 

“I am wonderful. Here, pass Rhaegon over to me.”

 

His Mother put her embroidery away haphazardly and held her arms out to receive the baby. Harry carefully handed his son over in his shawl. Rhaegon was still awake, but he was having one of his quiet moments.

 

“He’s such a good baby.” His Mother complimented.

 

“He is. He’s perfect.” Harry said with a proud smile. “I want to show him everything. I want to teach him everything. I might take him to Dorne.”

 

“You’re going to Dorne?” His Mother asked, her face falling.

 

Harry nodded. “You know, it’s the only place in the Seven Kingdoms that I have not yet visited.”

 

“Aerys doesn’t like Dorne, or the Dornish for that matter.”

 

“I have no idea why. I’m very fond of Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur.” Harry said mildly.

 

“I meant no offense, Ser.” Queen Rhaella insisted to Prince Lewyn behind Harry. “I do not think or feel the same as my Husband.”

 

“Think nothing of it, your Grace.” Prince Lewyn replied graciously.

 

“I am much more open minded than average men.” Harry said. “Rhaegon was born in Volantis, after all. I want to show him the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and as I’ve never been to Dorne, I wish to start there.”

 

“When?” His Mother asked. “Darling, you’ve only just come home after nearly two years away, please don’t leave again so soon.”

 

“It might be safer, Mother.” Harry said quietly, so that the two Septas’ couldn’t hear him.

 

His Mother blinked and then looked at the baby in her arms. She nodded sadly. “Yes. Of course, whatever you want to do, my love.”

 

“It wouldn’t be for long. I’ll go down the Roseroad to Highgarden and then take the Prince’s Pass and I’m planning to stop at Bitterbridge, Nightsong, Starfall and Godsgrace and then onto Sunspear. Depending on how long I stay at each location, I could be back in a little over a turn, Mother.”

 

Queen Rhaella sighed, but she smiled. “You bring home this sweet little grandson, without informing me that you were even married or that he’d been born, and now you want to take him off on a trip to Dorne that he won’t even remember. Will you come back with a second child?”

 

Harry laughed. “No, I realise now that I had done things wrong by marrying in Volantis and staying there for so long and away from home. Rhaegon was a few days old when I brought him home to Dragonstone. In fact Rhaegar dragged us both to Dragonstone and I holed up in my bed chambers for almost a turn afterwards, locked in my grief.”

 

“I am truly sorry that you have lost one whom you obviously loved so much. As your Mother I would have spared you from that pain if I could have.”

 

Harry smiled and touched his Mother’s hand. “I know you would have. Thank you, Mother.”

 

“You go and pack for Dorne, leave this precious bundle with me so that I might have some time to bond with him before you take him away again.”

 

Harry nodded. “Lewyn, please stay with my Mother and Rhaegon. I will be fine on my own, I’m not leaving Maegor’s Holdfast just yet and I’m not planning to leave the Red Keep.”

 

Prince Lewyn nodded and moved to stand behind Queen Rhaella and the young Prince Rhaegon, the boy who would one day sit the Iron Throne.

Harry quickly made his way through Maegor’s Holdfast and he went to his own bedchambers. He had barely unpacked from his arrival from Dragonstone, but most of his things were clothes or personal effects for Rhaegon. He wouldn’t need half of them for his trip to Dorne.

He also needed to find Rhaegar and inform him of his trip. His Husband would not be happy that he was going to travel to Dorne, with his son as well, but if they were going to go through with these farce weddings, then it was better to broker the terms in person, or so he believed, so that there were no misunderstandings later down the line.

He packed clothes for himself and Rhaegon, who was going to need an entire cart just to carry all the smallclothes that he was going to need, but his son still needed his milk and if Harry was travelling to Dorne, then Rhaegon had to come with him. It wasn’t ideal, but Rhaegar had to pick up his duties to the realm now that he was back in Kings Landing to prove to everyone that he had what it took to be a good King. Their Father had left the Seven Kingdoms in a terrible state and the realm was so neglected that it was a wonder there hadn’t been a mass revolt yet. Though Harry had a terrible feeling that one was brewing. It might help him to gauge the feelings of the smallfolk if he went travelling and from there, he could think of a way to ease their pain and suffering a little or allay their fears over the future and what was to come.

He finished packing and he went to find Rhaegar, who was likely holding a small council meeting to try and fix the state of the crown finances.

He was correct in his assumption as he walked into the council hall and found Rhaegar sat at the head of the table, Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur at attention behind him.

 

“Where is Rhaegon?” His Husband asked immediately.

 

“With Mother in the solar of Maegor’s Holdfast.” Harry answered. “I left Prince Lewyn with them.”

 

“Are you well?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, but I’m travelling to Dorne. It would be wise to get an idea for how the smallfolk truly feel.”

 

“Why Dorne?” Rhaegar demanded.

 

Harry grinned. “I’ve never been to Dorne.” He said with a chuckle, but his fingers still found his Maester’s chain and played with it nervously. Rhaegar noticed immediately and laid his hands over the one playing with the chain, stilling it.

 

“You’ll be taking Rhaegon with you.” Rhaegar said with sadness in those dark purple eyes.

 

Harry nodded. “I want to show him Dorne. He was born in Volantis, he’s seen Dragonstone and now Kings Landing. I want him to see Dorne too.”

 

“He’s six turns old.” Rhaegar laughed.

 

“I know.” Harry smiled. “But the realm is in such a state that we need to start somewhere and getting Dorne back on our side is very important, though the most important is reassuring the smallfolk and getting them to realise that there are still people here in Kings Landing who will look out for them, who care for them. They need that reassurance right now, Rhaegar. You need to assure them of that.”

 

“I will have a retinue put together to escort you.”

 

“Not too big, only a handful.” Harry replied. “I’m stopping at Highgarden and Sunspear, but also at Bitterbridge, Nightsong, Starfall, Godsgrace and that’s not to mention all the small inns and taverns. The last thing I want is to put too much pressure on the smallfolk by carting around a hundred strong entourage for a mere visit to Dorne.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Yours and Rhaegon’s protection is the most important issue to me, but I understand your point. I wish I could go with you.”

 

“You’re needed here.” Harry said, but he bent forward and whispered. “If we don’t distance ourselves then I’ll be on my knees begging for you before the week is out and I won’t care who sees or hears me.”

 

Rhaegar’s purple eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath. He nodded. “That would be for the best.”

 

“You know I’ll miss you, but this needs to be done, preferably before this little one comes.” Harry whispered, pressing Rhaegar’s hand to his gently curved belly. “We can pass this one off as one of our Wives. It’ll keep us much safer.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “If you leave in a few days, you should be there and back again before the next full moon. But as long as you’re home in time for the tourney at Harrenhal.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of missing my big brother being crowned champion and I certainly don’t plan to be gone for five turns.” Harry grinned, speaking more normally so the others in the room could hear him.

 

“Good, now go and get yourself sorted and I’ll get protection for you and Rhaegon.”

 

Harry nodded and he sighed. He needed to spend as much time as he could with Rhaegar now that he knew that he was leaving again. He would find a way to lay with Rhaegar before he left.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Just four days later, Harry was sat astride his favourite palfrey with Rhaegon tied to his body to stop him from falling, on his way to Highgarden. He had several knights with him and a handful of servants, but that was it. His Father had refused to part with even one member of the Kingsguard, so he and Rhaegon were travelling with just household knights to protect them. He could still see the worry in Rhaegar’s eyes and he took a hand from the reins to touch his sword at his hip. He sighed and touched Rhaegon, who was cooing happily with the gentle movements of the horse and it made Harry smile.

They’d already visited Lord Lorent Caswell at Bitterbridge, staying overnight, and he had been well received by him, but the smallfolk had been a mixed bag, some overjoyed to see him, others distrustful and even hostile, but still Harry had tried to help them as much as possible, helping a woman carry her heavy basket of apples and helping another woman, a washerwoman, patch up an injured ankle, even going so far as to help her hobble home. But something was definitely going on, but Harry had heard no whispers of any danger during his stay at Bitterbridge. He had sent a raven to Rhaegar though, just to warn him of the potential tension of the smallfolk near the Kingswood, they couldn’t have such unrest so close to Kings Landing, practically in their own back garden.

He’d made a few stops along the way to Highgarden, making sure to pay for himself and his retinue generously, which seemed to make those he met happy enough. But he was still glad to reach Highgarden in good time. He swung down off of his horse and approached the waiting people with Rhaegon on his hip.

 

“My Prince Haradarian.” Lord Mace greeted him at the gates, surrounded by his family, knights, guards and curious smallfolk.

 

“Lord Mace, it’s wonderful to see you again. Lady Alerie. Lady Olenna.” He greeted, nodding his head to the two women.

 

“Who is this?” Lady Olenna asked him as she peered at the babe sat on his hip.

 

“This is my son, Rhaegon. He’s six turns old.”

 

“We have much to catch up on, it seems. Mace, invite him for refreshments.”

 

“I…of course, please follow me, my Prince.”

 

Harry followed Mace Tyrell and his family, a six year old Willas all but jogging at his side, chatting to him, his little four year old brother Garlan, chubby and rounded, puffed and panted trying to keep up.

Harry stopped, hefted up the rather heavy four year old and then he started walking again, Willas keeping up, chatting about all the things that he’d thought about and read since the last Harry had seen him. He really was exceptionally bright for his age.

He was led to a beautiful boxed in garden that had a glass roof. It was secluded and very private. Everything was in bloom, the flowers smelled so sweet and fragrant and Harry relaxed as he placed Rhaegon down in the lush grass and watched as his little boy wriggled and giggled to himself as he ripped up the grass around him.

 

“You have left your Wife in Kings Landing?” Lady Alerie asked, a little harshly Harry thought and he showed that he’d caught onto her tone with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

 

“No, she was buried in her homeland of Volantis. She died in childbirth.” Harry replied just as frostily.

 

Lady Alerie seemed to realise that she’d made a huge mistake, without the poisonous glare that Lady Olenna was sending her way, and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

 

“I…that is a terrible tragedy, my Prince. I am sorry for your loss.” Alerie said, trying to cover her tasteless, offhand comment with meaningless pleasantries.

 

“It was a terrible loss, for me and my family and for hers too. She was much, much too young to die. She laboured for three days and it was too much for her. I almost lost Rhaegon also. It was a terrible time and such a devastating loss leaves a grievous wound behind that has not yet had time to heal.”

 

“He is strong and healthy.” Lady Olenna complimented, changing the subject to much clearer waters as she watched Rhaegon.

 

“He is and growing stronger every day. He’s not showing any interest in moving himself, though. He prefers to be carried around like a spoilt little Princeling.”

 

“He is still a little young, he’s small too.” Lady Olenna told him.

 

“Mother!” Alerie chastised.

 

“I am not your Mother. I would remember if I had given birth to you.”

 

Harry smiled, as the Lady Olenna had said as such the last time that he had visited Highgarden. He loved her sharp tongue that she used as both shield and sword to protect herself and her family, on occasion, from the comments of others. Mostly though those barbarous comments were aimed at her own son and good-daughter.

 

“He is small.” Harry agreed. “He was two turns premature.”

 

“Oh, he’s so strong for two turns premature.” Alerie insisted.

 

Harry nodded as he watched Rhaegon wriggle on the grass.

 

“Are you staying for long?” Lord Mace asked.

 

“He will stay for as long as he stays.” Lady Olenna told her son sternly, cutting in very quickly.

 

Harry chuckled. “A few days at least, if I am welcome.”

 

“Of course you are welcome, my Prince!” Lord Mace assured him, looking embarrassed at his perceived rude blunder. He probably hadn’t meant it in a rude way either, which is why Harry saw it as a harmless, offhand comment rather than anything to get worked up over.

 

“I am making my way to Dorne. Do you know that I have never been to Dorne in my life? It’s one of the only places that I have never been. So while Rhaegar fixes the damage that our negligent Father has caused in Kings Landing, I am travelling to Dorne to try and renew relations. Rhaegar feels that it is time that he married. He loves being an Uncle and I think he’s realised that he wants to become a Father. Do you know that he steals _my_ son every night to play him to sleep with his harp? He needs his own babes, so my ulterior motive is to broker a marriage between Kings Landing and Dorne by offering up my brother to the Princess Elia Martell.”

 

“She is no good for Prince Rhaegar, she is far too skinny and much too delicate. She doesn’t have birthing hips and I’ve heard that, though beautiful, she’s sickly too. She won’t give him strong sons.” Lady Olenna criticised immediately.

 

Harry sighed. “I know, Lady Olenna, but we need the alliance more than ever. We can’t afford to isolate Dorne with the state of the Seven Kingdoms as it is. A marriage will strengthen those ties and Princess Elia is the only viable option at this moment in time, Princess Arianne is just five years old, she will not be eligible for marriage for at least another nine or ten years, Princess Elia is the only match available and Rhaegar will take it if needed.”

 

Harry rubbed his head and he sighed, but he smiled a moment later as Rhaegon screeched as he peered at the grass stuck to his chubby hand.

 

“He’s so happy.” Lady Olenna sighed happily as she looked at his son.

 

Willas, who had sat next to Harry, helped Garlan to slip down to the floor and Harry grinned as the little boy crouched down to peer at Rhaegon.

 

“Be careful, Garlan.” Lord Mace insisted quickly to his younger son.

 

“It’s alright. Viserys is also very curious of Rhaegon and my poor boy has been poked, pinched and prodded since I brought him home. He’s very robust and hardy, he won’t mind. In fact he tends to give as good as he gets, he hits back and he bites.”

 

“He has teeth at this young age?” Lady Alerie asked.

 

Harry nodded. “Two of them…the front bottom teeth. He bit Viserys’ finger the second morning he was in Kings Landing. He’s quite cunning about it too, because he’ll grip your finger and you think he’s just being affectionate or that he’s just playing, then he’ll drag it to his mouth and bite.”

 

Garlan was rubbing Rhaegon like he was a small animal and it made Harry smile. Garlan was the youngest Tyrell, he had obviously learnt how to be gentle with cats or dogs and he was applying it with Rhaegon.

Rhaegon screeched and wriggled his arms and legs, reaching out for Garlan with a wet, dribbly grin.

 

“He wants to sit up, Mother.” Garlan said as he got his hands under Rhaegon’s arms and hefted him up.

 

“Be careful, Garlan!” Alerie all but screeched in worry.

 

Harry only laughed and he helped Garlan settle Rhaegon upright, on his bum, resting against Harry’s legs to support him up, just in case. Rhaegon was fully able to sit up himself, but he tended to list sideways, forwards or backwards after a short while, particularly if he reached out for something.

Rhaegon giggled and clapped his chubby hands together and Harry smiled adoringly as he brushed Rhaegon’s jet black hair gently with his fingers.

 

“Have you thought about remarrying, my Prince?” Lady Alerie asked.

 

Harry made a show of sighing heavily. “I don’t want to, but my Father is insistent. In his words, one measly son isn’t good enough. I can’t see myself loving anyone else, not ever, how is that fair to any Lady I then marry? She’s never going to be my Malana, she’s never going to be good enough. I’m never going to love her the same as I did Malana and that’s not fair to her. It would be better if I waited until I felt ready, until I found one I loved as much as Malana, but I’m not being given the choice or the luxury of time.”

 

“You might come to love her in time.” Mace told him kindly.

 

Harry smiled. “Perhaps, but how long will that take and how much pain will I put her through before then? It would be better if I found a woman like Malana and she was easy for me to like and be around. I could love a woman easier if she were kind and gentle, particularly to Rhaegon. I will not accept anyone as a wife who would shun him or try to hurt him, as things stand, he is the Heir to the Iron Throne after Rhaegar and I.”

 

Harry bent and kissed Rhaegon’s head, wiping his chin with a clean linen rag that he kept tied to the belt of his tunic.

 

“I hope the rooms that you stayed in on your last visit are still adequate for you. We’ve had them freshly cleaned and aired out, there is new linen on the bed and we’ve left you some essentials for your use. We will, of course, have Garlan’s cradle placed in the room too for Rhaegon’s use if this pleases you.” Lady Olenna said graciously.

 

“I would be most thankful. Rhaegon hasn’t slept in a cradle since we left Kings Landing and I believe that he misses it. He’s not fond of sharing a bed with me.” Harry laughed.

 

“Will he require a wet nurse for his use or have you brought your own?”

 

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you. Rhaegon started rejecting all wet nurses a turn ago. He hasn’t had once since.” Harry lied easily with a smile.

 

“Would you like a bath drawn?” Lady Alerie asked him.

 

Harry looked at himself and grimaced. “I believe washing up would be for the best. I’ve been staying at various inns along the Roseroad and I haven’t bathed since Bitterbridge. I must be absolutely stinking. I apologise for coming before you in such a state.”

 

“Nonsense.” Lady Olenna chastised him. “Such a thing can hardly be helped and a revitalising bath will be good for you.”

 

“I will have one drawn immediately.” Lady Alerie told him as she stood and went to order around the servant girls.

 

“Will Rhaegon bathe with you?” Lady Olenna asked him.

 

Harry nodded as he picked his son up and sat him on his lap. “Yes, Rhaegon loves bathing with me and honestly, he’s used to having a bath a day, he’s very messy with his food. As he’s not moving himself yet, when I need to wash myself, I tend to put him in a wicker basket by the side of the bath. He usually falls right off to sleep after he’s been bathed.” He lied. He usually had Rhaegar with him as they bathed Rhaegon together and then Rhaegar would take their boy to be dried and dressed before he played him to sleep with his harp. Harry would be free to bathe in peace for as long as he liked…or until the water went stone cold.

 

“He’s so sweet.” Garlan told him with a huge baby grin.

 

“Not as sweet as you are.” Harry said as he tickled Garlan’s chin. “I can’t believe how you’ve both grown, you were a baby the last I saw you.” Harry said as he pulled Garlan into a hug.

 

“Go and have your bath, Prince Haradarian. It will get cold.” Lady Olenna told him. “Supper will be served in an hour.”

 

Harry chuckled and he stood, kissing both Willas and Garlan on the forehead.

 

“Thank you for your hospitality.” He said graciously before he gave Lady Olenna and Lord Mace a short bow and he made his way to the rooms that he’d kept two years ago, on his way home from Oldtown, he passed the room and went a bit further down the corridor, to the bathing area.

 

Lady Alerie was ordering the serving girls around as he arrived in the bathing area just down from his bed chambers, directing them to lay out all manner of oils and linens for his use.

 

“Is Prince Rhaegon staying with you, my Prince?”

 

“Yes, Lady Alerie. He needs a bath too, he’ll be fine with me, but can I please ask that a wicker basket is left behind so that I might put him down safely? If it is convenient for you, of course.”

 

“Of course, of course.”

 

Lady Alerie almost ripped a basket from a serving girl’s hands and Harry had to bite his cheek to prevent himself from laughing at her actions.

He was left alone to bathe, as he’d instructed, and he padded out the basket with clean linen cloths to snuggle his Rhaegon safely.

His son cooed as he was placed into the basket and Harry undressed himself, put his dirty things in a pile and he checked to make sure that the clothes laid out for him by Lady Alerie would fit. They would suffice until he could get his own clothes, he reasoned.

He took off his Maester’s chain and laid it on top of his clothes and he slid into the bath and he sighed unhappily. Someone, likely Lady Alerie, had ordered the temperature to be controlled. It was warm, not the scalding hot that he usually liked, but he hadn’t bathed in over a week, he wouldn’t complain.

He bent over the wooden tub and picked up Rhaegon, stripping him from his own clothes and unpinning his smallclothes. He dunked his son into the bath and held him as he splashed and screeched in happiness. He tilted Rhaegon backwards and used his hand to wet his hair and he loved how Rhaegon tried to see what he was doing.

He used the flower scented oils, of course they’d be flower scents here in Highgarden, to clean off Rhaegon before he put him back down in the wicker basket. He washed himself, taking care with his sensitive breasts, washed his hair and then he got out of the bath before he froze to death. Perhaps he should have stipulated that he liked his baths scalding hot? He sighed again. No, it would have seemed ungrateful and ungracious of his hosts’ hospitality. He’d only be here for a few days, hopefully in Dorne they ran their baths hotter, but with how hot a place it was, he wouldn’t be surprised if they took their baths as cold as they could get them to start with.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Starfall was beautiful, it was all pale, white stone and it was in actual fact built on an island in the middle of the Torentine river. Of course Highgarden was considered by many to be the most beautiful castle in all of the Seven Kingdoms…disputed, of course, by the men of the Vale who prided themselves on their ugly Eyrie. Harry had been there once, as a young, very skinny, boy of six and Rhaegar, at one-and-ten, had refused to let him go and had instead clasped him tightly to his chest at all times. His big brother had had to all but carry Harry up to Eyrie with the commanding presence of their escorts, Ser Barristan Selmy and Prince Lewyn Martell, who hadn’t liked any of the three waycastles, Stone, Snow and Sky or the Eyrie proper. Harry was in full agreement with Prince Lewyn, he had hated all of the Vale and he truly didn’t care for that eastern Kingdom.

Rhaegar had had him sit with him on the humiliating donkey ride and there had been a terrible moment where their stupid donkey had caught a loose stone with its hoof and slipped, almost sending them both plummeting down the side of mountain, the only two Princes of the realm at that time. He remembered crying after that, wailing that he didn’t like it and that he wanted to go home, back to the Red Keep. He’d been passed to Ser Barristan Selmy, whose calm comfort had soothed him so that he wasn’t quite as hysterical as they continued up the tiny, treacherous goat path on mere donkeys. He realised now that he was older that it had been a tactical move to pass him over to Ser Barristan after the donkey slip, if one of them fell, the other was like to survive if they weren’t riding together on the same donkey. But he remembered clutching at Ser Barristan as tightly as his skinny arms could manage, trying not to look down, but being unable to prevent himself from looking at the same time.

The Eyrie itself was small, just several slim towers reaching up into the sky, but all Harry remembered was the cold, even in the height of summer. The howling winds that kept him awake all night and the one terrible, loud storm that had sent him running to burrow into Ser Barristan’s bed in the room just next to his own, hiding himself and trying fruitlessly to gain some comfort and courage from the patient, calm, brave knight, who had sat up with him all night throughout the storm, holding him and soothing him through every scream of wind that had sounded like some terrible, monstrous beast, with every flash of lightning that created terrifying shadows and every rumble of thunder that had had his heart pounding in his chest. They had stayed just a day shy of a week and even those six days had been too long in his opinion and he had cried from top to bottom on their descent, which seemed to be twice as dangerous and very disorientating because you had to look down as you travelled and seeing the clouds below you was wrong and scary and then, after going through the clouds, to looking down at tiny dots that you knew were huge forests and small blue lines that you knew were wide rivers was even scarier. He had again clutched onto Ser Barristan and cried himself sick all the way down. He and Rhaegar had both sworn to never go there again unless absolutely necessary and thus far, they hadn’t. Harry never wanted to go there ever again, it had left a lasting, terrible impression upon him as a young boy and if he could he would destroy the ugly place.

He was welcomed at Starfall as joyously as if he were a son of house Dayne and Harry smiled as he was immediately received and given refreshment without him even asking. A bowl of plump, soft berries was placed by his hand along with a spoon and Harry chuckled. Ser Arthur must have sent a raven ahead.

He tried the plump berries himself and found them still sweet and juicy. He used a plate and the spoon to squash the berries into mush that he then spooned into Rhaegon’s happy mouth, getting as much juice as he could too.

He took Ser Arthur’s true letter from his bag and he handed it over to Lord Alyn Dayne, Ser Arthur’s older brother. He attended to Rhaegon, feeding him the squashed berries and helping him to sip down some water from Harry’s own goblet.

 

“Leave us!” Lord Dayne demanded to the servers and attendants, his face like thunder. “Ashara, stay.” He addressed his younger sister.

 

Harry was pleased to note that the woman who would, potentially, play his farce wife, was incredibly beautiful and she looked exactly like Rhaegon with her jet black hair and bright purple eyes. His newest child, if this one came out just like Rhaegon, could be easily passed off as Ashara’s child.

 

“Is this letter genuine?” Lord Dayne asked him.

 

“I do not know what it says, Lord Dayne.” Harry replied honestly. “Your brother, Ser Arthur, handed it to me on the eve of my departure.”

 

“This letter claims that my brother witnessed that you’ve married your own brother, Rhaegar.” Lord Dayne hissed. Lady Ashara gasped and looked at him, and Rhaegon, as if they’d grown another head.

 

“That is correct. Rhaegar and I are happily married.”

 

“My brother sent me a raven just a week gone, telling us of your impending visit and your desire to see Ashara as a suitor. How can this be when this letter here claims that you are already married?!” Lord Dayne demanded. “I had believed that house Dayne was to be given recognition and status with a marriage to the royal line, even to a younger son, but I find out that it is all a farce!”

 

“If you would allow me to explain.” He said calmly.

 

“I think that that would be for the best.” Lord Alyn Dayne all but snarled at him.

 

“Rhaegar and I are married in secret, there were only five people who knew, seven now know including you and Lady Ashara. Rhaegar and I, your brother, Ser Arthur, and Prince Lewyn and Lord Jon Connington, the latter three who were all witnesses to our marriage. Yet we still need to be married in public.”

 

“You want to use Ashara, my _sister_ , as some sort of witless fool to cover your marriage to your own brother?! No, absolutely not! I will not facilitate this…this _unnaturalness_!”

 

“Rhaegar and I love one another, we have for years before we married. We understand that many won’t accept it, and as I told your brother, we’re not asking anyone to accept it, we’re just asking for help and support.”

 

“You want to use Ashara in your little game, dishonour her, play her and make her seem like a weak fool to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. I won’t allow it.”

 

“I would take her as a wife, yes, but only in the public view. I would not dishonour her as you seem to fear. I would not consummate the marriage and it would not be forever, only until our Father has passed. Only he can null our marriage, thus he is the only one that we truly need to fear. As soon as he has passed over to the Stranger, then Rhaegar and I will announce that our marriages to the wives we’ve chosen were not binding and they’d be free to seek other noble husbands.”

 

“No one is going to agree to such a farce!”

 

“I would be careful what you say, Lord Dayne. The Princess of Dorne has already agreed to the farce, and the Princess Elia has already agreed to marry Rhaegar in public view only. Prince Lewyn sent a messenger ahead to deliver the sealed letter himself. If you do not wish for me and Ashara to marry in such a way, just tell me so and I will find another who will do as we are requesting. Lord Connington has a cousin, Alynne, who I could also ask.”

 

“The babe, where has he come from?” Lady Ashara asked as she looked at the baby that could have been their own true born son.

 

“He is mine and Rhaegar’s.”

 

“What lunacy is this now?” Lord Dayne demanded, thumping his fist onto the table top in fury, making the dishes and other tableware clink and chink.

 

“It’s not lunacy. Rhaegar and I have a true born son and if you don’t believe me…”

 

Harry trailed off as he stood up, placing Rhaegon onto the table top. He unlaced his jerkin and lifted his tunic to show the slight bulge of his newly pregnant belly and the deep, puckered scar from where Rhaegon, and the single dragon egg, had been cut out of him.

 

“This scar is from where I cut Rhaegon out of my body, this bump, is mine and Rhaegar’s second babe forming.”

 

“You’re truly a woman.” Lord Dayne said quietly. “I had my suspicions, half the realm have their suspicions, but I reasoned with myself, why would King Aerys hide a daughter as a son?”

 

“I am a son, a man!” Harry replied, offended. “I am a man and I have always been a man! Hence why I have to cut my children free of my body as I do not have the correct parts to truly birth them.”

 

“Then how is it possible that you can have and carry children?! You will tell me or I will not agree to such a farce of a marriage as to dishonour my own house!”

 

“Neither of the women will be dishonoured.” Harry said firmly. “If they are maidens when they come to our marriage beds, they will go back to their homes afterwards as maidens. Rhaegar and I will not lay with them or dishonour them in any way because we will not dishonour ourselves or our own love to one another. They will be protected, they will enjoy all the invitations and status as a Princess of house Targaryen and they will forever be in our favour, even after our marriages are nulled. I do not know how Rhaegar and I are able to have babes, but we only tried after Rhaegar found a prophecy from old Valyria which spoke of myself and him bringing back a new age of the Targaryen family with our own bodies. We married and tried it…we got Rhaegon and now this new babe too. Doing this is instrumental to our family’s continued survival according to the prophecy, we needed to do it and we have, but our Father, who doesn’t know that Rhaegar and I are married to one another, is insisting on us marrying and he’s trying to find us suitable wives.”

 

“Of which you can’t allow due to your marriage vows to one another.” Ashara said perceptively.

 

Harry nodded. “Exactly right, my Lady. We will not dishonour each other by consummating a marriage that we don’t want, or frankly need, and we won’t dishonour the Ladies that we are forced to marry in such a way. It wouldn’t be right. Thus this little trip to Dorne. Your brother offered the Lady Ashara up as a potential candidate, Lord Dayne, and Prince Lewyn offered up his niece, the Princess Elia. The both of them are already involved, thus it is safer to approach you both with this sensitive matter.” Harry sighed as he wiggled Rhaegon’s feet and smiled as his son laughed in joyous, huffy little giggles. “If we are married to any woman who isn’t connected to this matter in any way, then our Father will hear that we have not consummated our marriages and he will want to know why, at which point he might think to ask the Kingsguard, who have an obligation to the oaths they took to him to tell him of what they know. That would put Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur in danger as, if found out, they’ll be executed alongside Rhaegar, myself and Rhaegon too.”

 

“He wouldn’t! Not a sweet little babe.” Lady Ashara said with a gasp of horror.

 

Harry nodded. “He would. That he’s a mere babe wouldn’t stop him. He’s cruel and twisted. He threatened to burn me on public display when I was just two-and-ten. I ran to Oldtown and started learning at the Citadel. I went back to Kings Landing at five-and-ten and my reprieve lasted all of a week before he started to threaten to burn me on public display again. Rhaegar and I married in the godswood and the very next day we sailed for Dragonstone, where we had Rhaegon. We came back to Kings Landing and this time, I’ve come to Dorne before he can start threatening me or Rhaegon. He is so unstable that I’m not sure he’ll just threaten it this time. I am worried that he’ll just do it with no warning and that this time, I will not be able to get away in time as I have done in the past.”

 

“Where have you said that this little one, Rhaegon, came from?” Lord Dayne asked with a sigh.

 

“I’ve insisted that I married a woman in Volantis named Malana, she died in childbirth while Rhaegar and I were in Volantis and we came home to Dragonstone with Rhaegon after she’d died.”

 

“The truth of which is…?”

 

“We did go to Volantis, and several other of the free cities too because I like collecting Valyrian steel artefacts, but when we realised that I was pregnant, then we travelled back to Volantis, where Rhaegar’s ship was docked, at which point I was very heavily pregnant. We sailed to Dragonstone and just a few days after we arrived back, I went into labour and I had to cut Rhaegon free with no pain relief, no medicines that would knock me out. I had to cut him free myself and then stitch my body back together before I could even have a single drop of milk of the poppy and it was agony. And now I have to do it all again.” He said with a chuckle. “Maybe I am a lunatic.”

 

“I can’t even begin to understand this, I can’t believe that I even think that it’s true.” Lord Dayne sighed, putting his face, so much like his younger brother’s, into his hands. “But I do believe you, what does that say about me and my sanity?”

 

“We Targaryen’s have always done things differently.” Harry said. “We marry siblings, we have taken more than one wife in the past, not to mention the dragons.”

 

“The dragons are all gone.”

 

“As long as a Targaryen yet lives, the dragons will never truly be gone. We are the blood of the dragon and with fire and blood, we shall prosper.”

 

“Ashara, what do you think? I have let you and Allyria choose your own matches and thus far you have not chosen any of your worthy suitors. Would you consent to a farce wedding? At least for a time.”

 

Lady Ashara looked at him, scrutinising him and Harry kept eye contact with her, letting her look as much as she needed. At least until Rhaegon squawked and then Harry immediately gave his attention to his son, hefting up the, now seven moon turn old, boy and letting him peer around from his upright position. He kissed Rhaegon’s chubby cheek and smiled at him adoringly.

 

“I’ll do it. It’s not the worst position to be in.” Ashara explained. “A Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, even for a short while, and all the prestige and position it brings. I won’t have to lie under anyone, and I’ll be free to wait a little longer before truly marrying anyone and having children. It is actually rather perfect for my situation. I will marry you, Prince Haradarian, but I do like to dance.”

 

Harry laughed. “Do you know, I have never learnt, but I do have a thirst for knowledge, which is why I ran to the Citadel to learn as much as I could, so I would be very open to being taught.”

 

“Dornish dancing is a little…different, to the elegant, chaste dancing of the Seven Kingdoms.” Lord Dayne told him with a grin that wouldn’t be misplaced on his younger brother’s face.

 

“Different is good.” Harry said with a grin of his own. “I like different. I am different.”

 

“Then I agree to this…this farce wedding. You and Ashara will be married, but I would hope that you hold house Dayne in high regard after this mess is sorted.”

 

“Lord Dayne, your brother has stood over me and protected me since I was a very young boy. He is a close, personal friend to Rhaegar and I. I already held your family in high regard, but you will be highly rewarded for going along with this wedding and I hope to always call house Dayne as a close friend and ally to Rhaegar and I for generations to come.”   

 

“How is this to be played?” Lord Dayne asked, sitting back and sighing.

 

“Rhaegar and Elia are to be married first. I am supposedly in mourning for my lost wife. It would be seen as obscene, an insult, if I married immediately after arriving back in the Seven Kingdoms. I would not have it said that I offered insult to my supposed dead wife or to you, my Lady. So instead, Lady Ashara, if you were to come to the capital as Princess Elia’s lady-in-waiting, perhaps we could dance at their wedding and form a connection for all the other Lords and Ladies to see.”

 

Ashara Dayne laughed. “Oh, but that would be fun. I must needs teach you how to dance before you leave. How long are you staying, Prince Haradarian.”

 

Harry sighed. “I can stay for a few days, but I still need to make a formal visit to Sunspear under the guise of asking Elia’s hand in marriage on the behalf of my brother before I can go home and I’m sure Rhaegar is missing his son, as I and Rhaegon are missing him. But, if you allow, I would come back here on my way back to Kings Landing.”

 

“Of course, of course.” Lord Alyn Dayne said easily, sipping his Dornish wine happily. He was in a much better mood than when Harry had arrived and dashed his hopes of a real marriage between him and his sister, Ashara.

 

“Would I need to care for Rhaegon during this farce marriage?” Lady Ashara asked.

 

Harry shook his head. “Rhaegar and I are still caring for all of his daily needs, but if I don’t ask too much, could you be kind to him. I could never accept anyone who was not kind to him.”

 

“Of course. He’s so sweet, happy and beautiful. May I hold him?”

 

Harry stood and he handed his happy, giggly boy over to Lady Ashara. She held him gently and she looked into those purple eyes with a chuckle.

 

“He actually looks like me. It’s a wonder that Arthur didn’t suspect me.” She laughed.

 

“Ser Arthur knew that Rhaegar and I were married, he was very, very shocked as Rhaegon has Rhaegar’s eyes. But it would actually really help if this new babe came out looking exactly like Rhaegon.”

 

“How are we to handle the new babe?” Lord Alyn asked.

 

“The only way to handle it is to claim that it’s the baby of either Lady Ashara or Princess Elia, depending on if the babe comes out looking more like me or more like Rhaegar…of course we can’t do anything about the colour of the eyes, we won’t know what colour they’ll turn for some weeks after the babe is born. If the babe is silver haired and we claim it as Rhaegar’s, only for the baby to have green eyes…that could be problematic, but then Rhaegar and I are still brothers, my green eyes and black hair had to have come from somewhere, so it’s reasonable that a child of Rhaegar’s could have black hair or green eyes and that a child of mine could have silver hair or purple eyes. It won’t be for long, as soon as Father is gone then we can stop the farce, but we need to protect our babies by any means that we can until then.”

 

“If you are two turns pregnant already…?” Lord Dayne trailed off.

 

Harry sighed. “It’ll be difficult, I know. We might have to claim this babe as Rhaegar and Elia’s child, which is going to be bad enough.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I produce milk for Rhaegon, I’ll do the same for my other children. If Rhaegar has to claim the babe with Elia…it’s going to be very difficult for me to feed my own baby and that would devastate me.”

 

“That’s why you don’t have a wet nurse with you.” Lord Dayne said, surprised. “I had wondered why until I saw the babe eating the berries. I thought that he didn’t need one, despite his young age.”

 

Harry nodded. “He’s eating reasonably well by himself as long as the food is completely mashed up first, but he does still need my milk a few times a day, most particularly at night.”

 

“Do you have…no, forget that I said anything, my Prince. It is not polite to ask.”

 

Harry chuckle. “Your brother asked exactly the same if you wish to ask what I believe you do. Do I actually have breasts? Funny enough he also asked if I was truly a woman too, despite knowing me for the majority of my life. The answer is yes, I do have very small breasts that grew in while I was heavily pregnant. Full of milk they are barely big enough for me to grip in my own hand, so they are barely breasts at all, more like swollen nipples, or an insect bite, but I have them.”

 

“Well, you have given me a lot to think about, I will have someone see you to your rooms and I will have a bath drawn for you before we sup, my Prince. I hope to be seeing much more of you in the coming times.”

 

Harry nodded and he took Rhaegon from the Lady Ashara and followed the servant that Lord Dayne had called to lead him to his rooms in Starfall. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he was alone while his bath was being prepared. Lord Dayne had accepted. He was a little safer now than he had been before he’d arrived and he swallowed hard, holding back his emotional tears. That was one thing about pregnancy that he could have done without, the need to cry at odd times throughout the day. Well…that and Mother’s sickness, of course. 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Sunspear had been far too hot. So hot. Harry spent most of it walking around bare from the waist up, his breeches pulled up a little higher than usually worn to cover the scars of his birthing, and though he had tried to keep Rhaegon in the shade as much as was possible, his son had still been very grouchy and not at all his usual self. He already felt terrible as his little boy had burnt in the sun before he’d noticed that it was too hot for an infant. He was still soothing Rhaegon’s skin with an ointment that he’d made during his stay in Sunspear and he applied it every few hours, as such it was taking longer to get back home than he’d first estimated as they kept needing to stop.

He’d spent a very pleasant week in Sunspear with the Princess of Dorne and her children, Prince Doran, his two young children, the five year old Arianne and the newly born Quentyn, Princess Elia and the youngest of her children, Prince Oberyn, who had delighted in the truth of his marriage to Rhaegar and had spent the entire of his time in Sunspear flirting with him, touching him under the guise of teaching him Dornish dancing, which was definitely not like the chaste dancing the Ladies preferred back home, and trying to get Harry into his bed.

He was thankful to be back in the Crownlands after being gone for almost two turns, he was going to arrive back in Kings Landing just in time for his seventeenth name day. Rhaegon was eight turns old now and rapidly closing in on nine turns. He needed to be bonding with his Father again.

He now had a bigger entourage than when he’d first left, as the Princess Elia and Lady Ashara were accompanying him back to Kings Landing and they had knights and hand maidens of their own. Harry was riding beside their litter, being pulled by strong, large horses. Rhaegon, who had taken a liking to both Ladies, absolutely loved riding in their litter with them, he liked playing with their soft pillows and floaty, lacy dresses.

They had passed straight through Bitterbridge in the early morn. They had stopped only for a small break and for Harry to pay his respects to Lord Caswell before they’d mounted up and carried on. Harry was planning on riding the remaining journey continuously now, Rhaegon tied to his body. They only had the Kingswood to navigate through and then it would be an unimpeded road to Kings Landing. They should arrive back by dusk if he had calculated right, with just enough time to freshen up before they supped.

The loud, chaotic attack came out of nowhere and Harry was as startled as everyone else when they suddenly came under attack in the Kingswood.

 

“My Prince Haradarian, flee!” One knight yelled out to him loudly. Harry could have cursed him, because now their attackers were completely focused on him, because he was a Prince.

 

“Lady Ashara, Princess Elia, take Rhaegon and run!” Harry ordered calmly and sternly, taking Rhaegon from his sling and jumping down from his horse and handing him over to the terrified Ashara. “You must run to Kings Landing, go, now. Keep to the road and keep moving! Do not stop for anyone and for no longer than necessary. See yourselves safe.”

 

Harry unsheathed his dagger and he slit their dresses from waist to hem so that they could run without tripping before he drew his sword and he covered them fiercely until he got them free of the mess and he sent them running down the road with a crying Rhaegon and a group of their terrified handmaidens and attendants.

He stayed there, in front of the path, cutting down anyone who tried to pass to follow the group of young women and his baby son. He tried to organise the household knights, but they were more used to tourney fighting than real fighting and many of them had already thrown down their arms and fled. He needed knights of renown here, like those of the Kingsguard.

He had no shield, so as he was fighting he took numerous nicks and scratches to his body, but it was inevitable that after a time he took a blade deep into the meat of his right shoulder and he cried out at the pain. A deep wound it may have been, but it was not life threatening as it had merely taken a chunk of flesh from him, but it was a painful one nonetheless and he wore no armour, not even an ornamental breastplate, to protect himself. He was relying more on dodging and meeting his opponent’s blade with his own. He swallowed the bitter bile of fear back down as he thought of his unborn babe before cursing and shoving such thoughts away. Whatever happened here now, it was going to happen and it was in the hands of the gods. He was just so thankful that he had gotten his baby Rhaegon away. He prayed to the Warrior for his own survival and to the Mother for his babes’ survival, his Rhaegon and his unborn baby both, but he fought on for as long as he could…until he was exhausted and a bout of Mother’s sickness that he couldn’t control in the slightest had him vomiting onto the forest floor. There were too many of them and his knights had abandoned him or they had been struck down until he was the only one left fighting.

He was near enough alone, those who had not already fled were lying, dead or dying, on the floor and Harry was disarmed and bound. He tried not to hear the victory speeches being made around him by his captors, the Kingswood Brotherhood if he’d heard them right, as they boasted of capturing a Prince and told him what was to be done with him. They were not going to ask for a ransom, they were planning to kill him slowly and painfully to make an example of him in the name of the smallfolk. Harry wondered if this Brotherhood knew that most of the smallfolk adored him and called him Haradarian the Heart…he wondered if they cared as he was stripped naked with glee, his captors taking any valuables that he had on him, including his Maester’s chain, before they kicked him about like a stray dog. He covered his baby belly as much as he could with his bound arms, but he feared that it was already too late as a hideous pain started in his back and belly, like the pain he had had when he’d gone into labour…a babe would not survive a labour at just two turns.

Talk of rape had started, as one man touched his smooth skin and actually put his slimy tongue on his body. Harry took note of his face. If he lived through this, he would have that tongue ripped out and nailed to the entrance of Traitors Walk.

Thankfully someone else, one who was apparently very disgusted by the idea of a man even thinking of another man in such a way, much less actually fucking one, condemned the other man and instead took charge and outlined what was going to happen. Harry, injured, bleeding, in agony and fearful for his unborn babe and for himself, was instead stuffed into a small crow cage and suspended from a tree. He tried to stay awake, but he found the alluring darkness of oblivion was much stronger and instead, he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Ser Barristan was stood just outside the city walls of Kings Landing. Four of his sworn brothers, Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor and then Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur, had been stood out here all night in pairs, switching in shifts to look out for Prince Haradarian and his party, who had been due back yesterday evening. As it approached midday, tensions were climbing and there was still no sign of Prince Haradarian and the infant Prince Rhaegon. 

 

“He should have been here by now.” Prince Rhaegar Targaryen said for the seventh time as he paced back and forth on the grass.

 

“Mayhaps he stopped for longer than planned at Bitterbridge.” Queen Rhaella tried to comfort, but her words were empty, she was as worried as her oldest son and her gaze kept flitting nervously up the road that disappeared into the Kingswood.

 

“He said that he’d be here by dusk yesterday. It is now almost midmorning, something has happened, I can feel it.” Rhaegar was getting angrier by the moment, Ser Barristan realised.

 

“Has he been attacked by the Brotherhood?” Little Prince Viserys asked worriedly from where he was holding his Father’s hand.

 

“Of course not, darling. They would not dare to touch a Prince.” Queen Rhaella soothed.

 

Rhaegar’s face told Ser Barristan that he did not believe his Mother any more than he himself did. The Brotherhood had been gaining a massive following among the smallfolk and King Aerys was doing nothing. Innocent people were being attacked, assaulted, robbed, raped or even killed on the roads through the Kingswood and the King would do nothing. It was a very distressing time for anyone who needed to travel through the Kingswood and many, if they had any other choice, refused to go through it.

Despite his watchfulness, Ser Barristan was still shocked and alarmed when a group of muddied, bloodied young women came bursting up the road to Kings Landing as fast as they could manage, several of them in tears, their dresses ripped and dirty, every dress had the sides slit up to the waist. More victims of the Brotherhood, he thought as his armoured hand clenched tightly as he saw the young babe the one woman was cradling tightly. The babe wasn’t moving and his stomach turned as he feared the worst.

As they got closer, Ser Arthur suddenly screamed like an enraged boar and he went running towards the women, screaming his sister’s name, Ashara. Ser Barristan was stunned to come to the same conclusion as he saw the black hair, tangled around broken twigs, and the tearful purple eyes…if these women were the Lady Ashara and Princess Elia along with their handmaidens, then Prince Haradarian _had_ been attacked by the Brotherhood in the Kingswood. Rhaegar went charging after Ser Arthur and it was as he took the babe and cradled him close that Barristan realised that the babe who had been cradled by the young Lady Ashara was in fact Haradarian’s son, the youngest Prince, Rhaegon. He and his other brothers had automatically followed after Rhaegar once he had moved and they were all worried as their Prince checked over the young babe.

 

“What happened?!” Prince Rhaegar yelled out once he was assured that the babe was well, drawing in a crowd of smallfolk and city watchmen.

 

“We were attacked in the Kingswood, they came out of nowhere.” A tearful Lady Ashara told them.

 

“Where is Prince Haradarian?! Where is my brother?!” Rhaegar yelled, his face going red with his anger.

 

A tittering from the smallfolk drew Ser Barristan’s attention. He was pleased to note that they looked worried and angry at the news…Haradarian the Heart had never died in their eyes. If it was one Prince that they wouldn’t allow to be hurt, it was Haradarian.

 

“He passed us Rhaegon, he got us down from the litter and slit our dresses and he told us to run.” Princess Elia sobbed. “He got us free of the fighting and pushed us down the road. He stood there, not allowing anyone to pass to give us time to run. I don’t know what happened after that.” She insisted.

 

“We never stopped running.” Lady Ashara cried, safely in her brother’s arms. “Not for a moment. We almost lost our way in the night, but we got here as soon as we could.”

 

“Mount up.” Prince Rhaegar told them. “Ser Harlan, get these Ladies to the Red Keep and attend to them in any way that they need. You will guard them, and Prince Rhaegon, with your life.”

 

“My Prince, perhaps it would be best if you stayed. They have one Prince already, we don’t want to give them two.” Ser Jonothor Darry said.

 

“I am going to get my brother back.” Rhaegar spat.

 

“You will stay here.” King Aerys spoke up for the first time in a soft, croak of a voice. “Ser Arthur will lead the attack and wipe out these pests once and for all.”

 

“Your Grace?” The Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, questioned a little uncertainly.

 

“You will stay with me.” King Aerys insisted as he turned and headed back into the city, making for the Red Keep. Queen Rhaella, Viserys, the two Ladies and their handmaidens going with them.

 

Prince Rhaegar let out such a yell of frustrated anger that he sounded like a great, wounded beast, but he had no choice but to follow with his infant Nephew in his arms and neither did Ser Harlan Grandison or Ser Gerold Hightower.

 

“I will bring him back to you.” Barristan swore as Prince Rhaegar passed him.

 

Those purple eyes were so sad, so worried, so scared that Barristan almost reached out to physically reassure the man in front of him, but he refrained.

 

“Please do.” Rhaegar said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what I would do without him.”

 

Barristan steeled himself as the city watch brought out horses from the stables and Lord Crakehall, who was visiting for Prince Haradarian’s seventeenth name day next week, came trotting out on his own horse, his two young squires, Merrett Frey and Jaime Lannister, attending him. 

 

“I can’t let you have all the fun.” He declared as he made sure his sword was loose in its scabbard.

 

Ser Barristan swung himself up as several other visiting Lords or younger sons, who again were all here for Prince Haradarian’s seventeenth name day, mounted up with their squires to ride with them and Ser Arthur set off as if all the demons of the seven hells were after him. The Ladies had told them that they were almost out of the Kingswood when they were attacked and they had been on foot and it had taken them only several hours to reach Kings Landing, with the pace that they were setting, they would make good time and they would hopefully reach Prince Haradarian in time.

It was not as simple as that though, the outlaws had moved on from the site of the attack, of which they’d found easily due to the numerous dead bodies scattered over the road, and they’d taken Prince Haradarian with them. It took them days of scouring the Kingswood to find even a hint of the Brotherhood, and only then it was because the smallfolk helped them, opening up like a flower to the sun when they heard that their Prince Haradarian had been taken captive by those they saw as their protectors. After several skirmishes over the next few days, in which one of Lord Crakehall’s squires’, Merrett Frey, was taken captive, they still had not found the leader of the group, believed to be Simon Toyne, who bore a severe grudge against the Targaryen family after the disgrace and destruction of his own family, nor any hint of the insane Smiling Knight, who had been seen with the Brotherhood.

They regrouped at Kings Landing, informed the King, and the raging Prince Rhaegar, of what was happening while Lord Sumner Crakehall ransomed his squire back, which lost them a lot of time, but they needed to gather information and that took time as Ser Arthur headed out yet again, day after day, trying to gain the trust of the smallfolk who lived in the Kingswood, particularly those who lived near Bitterbridge, promising them more rights to take away their reason for needing the Brotherhood. He went to King Aerys personally to ensure that the smallfolk got what they needed in order to exchange that for information on the movements of the Brotherhood and any news or hint of Prince Haradarian, but it took time to gain the trust of the down beaten smallfolk. Time that they didn’t have as every day they lost was another day that Prince Haradarian was a prisoner, it was another day that they didn’t have any news of him or his condition.

Long, endless seeming days passed and then Sumner Crakehall was approached by one of his men to announce that his squire, Merrett Frey, had been found wandering through the Kingswood close to Kings Landing. His injured squire who limped back to them after his ransom had been paid with his arse branded with a fawn, by Wenda the white fawn, meaning that he could not even sit down, much less ride a horse.

After brutal, extensive questioning by a furious, very impatient Prince Rhaegar, it emerged that Merrett Frey had not seen the Prince Haradarian and the Prince hadn’t been where he himself was being kept captive and not one of his captors had mentioned the Prince at all during his stay with the Brotherhood. Which made Merrett Frey quite useless to them really, even hearing that the Prince was still alive would have buoyed their hopes, but there had been no word, no sightings and no demand for a ransom. Why would the Brotherhood take a ransom for Merrett Frey, but not take the very hefty price that was being offered to them for Prince Haradarian’s safe return? The only thing he could think of was that Haradarian was not in a good way and that the demand for him to be released unharmed was not possible, because he had already been harmed. His guts twisted at such a thought and he tried to remain calm.

Their waiting for Merrett Frey’s release had yielded them nothing, the information they had hoped for was denied them and once again they headed out into the Kingswood, searching for the missing Prince, or any sign of the Brotherhood. They searched for long days, getting up with the sun and only stopping when they lost the light, eating and drinking in the saddles of their horses, only stopping to relieve themselves and to give their horses a small rest, but there was no hint of the Brotherhood and certainly no sign of Prince Haradarian. The Brotherhood were always one step ahead of them, even though they could no longer take refuge with the smallfolk, whom Ser Arthur had won the trust of by keeping his word and getting them better rights from King Aerys, who was acting as if Haradarian was his most beloved son as he promised death to all those who had taken him captive.

They spent another two long, gruelling days hunting through the Kingswood for the rebel outlaws, on the third, by a stroke of complete luck, they were flagged down by a washer woman, who told them that she had been approached for some food by the Brotherhood just that morning. She told them quickly that she had given them the food because she had been intimidated by them and what she described as their aura of menace, but she went on to explain that Prince Haradarian had once shown her great kindness when he had given her medicine and a pain killer for a twisted ankle and she told them that he had even escorted her home, even though it was so far out of his way, and she informed Barristan and his sworn brothers in which direction the two members of the Brotherhood had headed in after she’d given them some food.

The Gods were looking down upon them more favourably as they rode their mounts hard in the direction that the washer woman had pointed them in and it was not a day later that they caught up the outlaws, surprising them in their makeshift camp for that day.

When they did finally reach the little group of rebels, however, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. The young boy who he had seen being born in the Great Sept of Baelor on the holy day of the Mother, the boy that he had given a hand to raising over the last seventeen years now, the boy he saw as his own son, was stripped naked and bound, beaten to a bloody pulp with wounds all over his body. He was dirty, skinny and hanging, limp and lifeless, unconscious in a small crow cage that was hanging from a tree like he was the worst of criminals.

Barristan leapt from his horse with a speed that he hadn’t known for several years now, he swung his sword with ferocious force, cutting down these outlaws who had dared harm Haradarian. Who had dared to beat him and put him in a crow cage for almost a full turn. He didn’t wait for them to be ready from where they’d been startled by their sudden appearance, charging in on horseback, yelling and shouting, cutting them down as they sat eating, drinking or even sleeping.

He clashed with the insane, deadly swordsman known as the Smiling Knight, before their fight was interrupted and Barristan was then fighting the leader of the outlaw band, who was confirmed now as Simon Toyne. He unleashed all of his frustrations and anger upon this one person, who he suspected was behind not ransoming the Prince back, and likely for all the hideous injuries that he’d suffered too, and he killed Simon with a ferocious blow to the ribs that shattered bone and tore into soft flesh, releasing great gouts of blood that spurted from the wounds that Barristan had inflicted upon him, sending a torrent of hot blood over Barristan’s hands as he almost cleaved the man in two.

He took a breather and turned around, surveying the small clearing for more foes, but everything was well in hand as they had taken the Brotherhood by surprise and that had most certainly worked in their favour. The most fierce clash still being fought was between Ser Arthur and the Smiling Knight, but with a vicious swing of his pale, ancestral family sword, Dawn, Ser Arthur put an end to that and took his own breather after pulling his sword from the Smiling Knight’s chest, removing his helm to swipe at the sweat on his face.

Only three members of the Kingswood Brotherhood were still alive, they were being tied up and treated like dogs themselves, but all of the others, even Wenda, were finally dead or awaiting justice in the dungeon of the Red Keep with this last, final clash. It had taken them almost a full turn to find Prince Haradarian, while worrying about the state of his health or if he was even still alive, but they had finally found him and they had him back.

Barristan didn’t wait to be told, as soon as the battling had been done and the three survivors had been secured, he was the one to climb the tree, up to the crow cage, and he used his sword to break open the door to the tiny crow cage. He sheathed his sword and gently, carefully, picked up the limp body of Prince Haradarian. He had to sling the naked boy over his shoulder to carry him safely and he begged the Prince to forgive him the further indignity while he climbed down to the ground, where Ser Arthur was waiting with his white cloak spread between his hands ready to receive the Prince.

Barristan laid the Prince into Ser Arthur’s arms and he wrapped the white cloak around his Prince carefully. A powerful, convulsive shiver wracked the Prince’s body and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. That terrified him, it terrified them all as it signified internal injuries and they had all seen men bleeding from the mouth before, as they lay dying on the battlefield from their injuries. He tore off his own white cloak and wrapped that around the shivering Prince too and he swung himself up onto his horse, taking the tiny body into his own lap from Ser Arthur. He prayed to the Seven that the Prince pulled through, he didn’t know what Rhaegar would do if he didn’t…he didn’t know what the King would do if he died and that was a frightening thought.

 

“If this boy dies, you’ll wish that you had not begged for mercy.” Ser Arthur spat at the three survivors as he wiped his hands clean…they had been smeared with the Prince’s blood.

 

“I found his dagger and his chain.” Ser Oswell said as he opened a chest filled with stolen coin and jewellery. Haradarian’s Valyrian steel dagger, a name day gift from Rhaegar, was on the top, along with his Maester’s chain. His sword was nowhere to be seen.

 

Ser Oswell took the entire chest and after the camp had been searched, for more chests of coin or valuables that had been stolen from innocent people, or even for more hostages or enemies, they all mounted up to make their way back to the road that would take them back to Kings Landing.

Barristan rode as quickly as he could, while keeping Prince Haradarian as still as he could. It was difficult on the back of a horse, but he did the best as he could as he squeezed the horse between both thighs and used just one hand to direct it.

The Prince kept shivering in his arms, fresh blood staining the white cloaks that he was wrapped up in…if he could bleed through two cloaks visibly in just a few hours, then he was seriously hurt and he needed the attention of a Maester, but there was nothing that they could do, they had to stop when night fell and they lost the light of the sun as it was unsafe to carry on through the trees in the darkness as they had left the road to attack the Brotherhood.

It was Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur who unwrapped the tiny, naked body, cutting the tight ropes that were binding the Prince’s hands and his ankles tightly and they looked the young Prince over, but none of them were Maesters, or even field medics, and besides covering the most obvious of the wounds, of which there were many, they had to wait until they got back to Kings Landing and by then it was entirely possible that it would be much too late. They had been too late to save him from pain and they might yet be too late to save him from death too. 

 

“Prince Haradarian! Can you hear me?”

 

Barristan looked up and his heart stopped for a moment when he saw those green eyes slitted open.

 

“‘Agar?”

 

“Rhaegar isn’t here. We’re taking you to him, my Prince.” Ser Arthur insisted. “As fast as we can, just, hold on, please.”

 

“‘Aegon?”

 

“Rhaegon got to Kings Landing safely. He’s fine, he’s unharmed and he’s safe.”

 

“Girls?”

 

“They got there safely too, all thanks to you by all accounts. Here, take a bit of water.”

 

Prince Lewyn helped Prince Haradarian to sit up, resting the Prince on his own body as he couldn’t hold himself upright and he was very floppy and weak. Ser Arthur held up a skin of water, helping him to drink. At least until those eyes opened again and the Prince almost choked on the mouthful of water he’d just taken as he flailed in terror.

Barristan looked around quickly, his hand jumping to the pommel of his sword, but spied only the three captives. He wanted to stave in their heads just for the look of fear and panic they had put on Haradarian’s young, battered face.

 

“Worry not about them, they are our captives.” Barristan tried to sooth, but the Prince stared silently, fearfully at them. At just the one of them, Barristan corrected himself and he narrowed his eyes on the one, filthy man.

 

“What did he do to you?” Prince Lewyn asked, shifting the Prince to the side before standing and drawing his sword, moving forward, towards the captives.

 

“I want him alive.” Harry croaked, more blood dribbling from his mouth, but saying that much together seemed to be too much for the Prince, or maybe it was trying to support himself upright when he had neither the strength nor the energy for it, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out flat.

 

Ser Arthur caught him quickly and laid him down gently on the bed of white cloaks that he was staining with his precious blood.

 

“What did you do?” Prince Lewyn demanded, bearing down on the one man whom Haradarian had been most afraid of.

 

The man spat discoloured saliva at Prince Lewyn and smirked nastily. “He has such soft, pale skin. Such a sweet delight.”

 

Barristan’s stomach sank and he clenched both hands and his teeth at the hint, the threat, in those words. If Prince Haradarian had been violated while in captivity…no, the thought was too horrible to comprehend. He couldn’t think of it, not of his young boy, it was too cruel a fate for him.

Prince Lewyn launched himself at the man, sword in hand, but Ser Oswell caught him and prevented him from slicing open the outlaw.

 

“Why did you…?!”

 

“Our Prince wants him alive.” Ser Oswell reminded him calmly. “If there is to be any retribution, he has first rights to it. Seeing justice done often helps a man to recover from such traumas.”

 

Prince Lewyn snarled, but he sheathed his sword and paced like a caged animal.

 

“I am going to guard you personally.” He told the filthy man seriously. “I’m going to make sure that you stay alive and healthy enough to face the Prince’s punishment. You can’t hurt him any longer.”

 

The man smirked again, showing the brown stumps he had for teeth. “I’ve already hurt him in ways that he’ll never recover from.” He insisted, trying to rile them up, likely to end his life with suicide by sword instead of facing true justice at the hands of Haradarian back at Kings Landing. He already knew that nothing good was coming to him if he reached the capital alive. He should never have begged for mercy in the first place.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Barristan said with a calmness that he wasn’t feeling, but his voice had an immediate effect on all of his brothers as their shoulders relaxed and their postures became less tense. “He is a dragon, and dragons are not that easy to harm. He has already passed through some of the worst hardships in his young life and he’s done so with a smile and a laugh. He’s going to heal from this, he’s going to be just fine and you will wish that you had never even lain eyes upon him. You’re going to beg for death before the end, I can assure you of that.”

 

Barristan ate some of the hard salt beef that they had packed for the road, gnawing on it and washing it down with river water. He was not worried. Haradarian had more than proved himself over his mere seventeen years. He was not a knight, having never squired for anyone officially, but he had the essence of one coupled with the brain of an ancient Maester and the heart of the Mother herself.

He had lost four brothers and a sister, he had to watch his Mother being downtrodden and heartbroken with every loss, with every miscarriage, but still he smiled. He had had to live with a Father who had all but disowned him, claiming him a bastard child, threatening to burn him alive. He had lived with that worry, that fear, daily but he had still laughed through it. He had found love, only for the Stranger to take his young Wife away almost immediately afterwards, leaving him a young Father to a premature boy who he had also feared would be taken from him, but a better Father Barristan had never seen. Haradarian doted upon his small son, caring for him, loving him so fiercely that it was a wonder he could stand handing him over to others even for a short time.

He saw in Haradarian all of the strong, good qualities of an honourable, just man who loved as fiercely as he punished. He did not hold any disdain for the smallfolk just because they were born lower, he helped them as much as he did his friends in Highgarden or Oldtown. Prince Lewyn boasted of when Haradarian had ruled Kings Landing so fairly, so justly during the Defiance of Duskendale at just two-and-ten and Ser Oswell was fond of repeating the story of Prince Haradarian’s last day in Kings Landing two years ago, where he had given out coins and food, rejecting any change for items he’d purchased and how he had helped a little street urchin and a small, sick girl, just because he could. Barristan was proud of this young boy and he had meant his words, if anyone could survive this ordeal and come out of it unchanged, it was his Haradarian.

It took them another two days to make it back to the capital and in that time the Prince rarely woke and he hadn’t eaten anything either, they had dribbled small sips of water from a skin into his mouth and helped him to swallow when he choked upon it. He was still bleeding sluggishly and he dipped in and out of consciousness, having moments where he went so floppy and limp that they feared that he might have died in their arms.

They reached Kings Landing as the sun was at its highest on the second day of the Prince’s release and Prince Haradarian looked so much worse under the harsh sunlight, out in the open and out from the cover of the dense trees and foliage of the Kingswood. His skin was grey and clammy, his lips were white, his eyelids purple, he was still floppy and unconscious and the bleeding hadn’t stopped yet. The dried blood and mud on him made him look already dead, but it was the fresh blood that worried them the most, their Prince was still heaving up blood from his insides and it was a very bad sign. He prayed again, fervently, that they were not too late, that they had gotten him home in time for him to be healed.

Barristan, who had the Prince in his arms once again, did not stop once they reached the Red Keep on horseback. He leapt down from his horse, ignoring the gasps of guards and servants alike as they saw the state of their Prince after his captivity. He hurried past Prince Rhaegar, who looked like he hadn’t slept at all in the last few weeks, as he made his way quickly to Grand Maester Pycelle’s rooms. Rhaegar, who hadn’t stopped him, was hurrying behind him and then before him, running much faster as he was not weighted down by heavy armour or a delicate, injured person.

They found Grand Maester Pycelle in the climax of entertaining a whore and Prince Rhaegar almost shouted himself hoarse at the scene they had burst into as he threw the naked girl roughly out into the corridor without her clothes and threatened the Grand Maester with castration.

 

“How dare you break your vows?!” He was shouting, even as Barristan laid the tiny Prince down on a clean bed. “How dare you lie with _anyone_ when you knew that Haradarian could have been brought here at any moment!”

 

“My Prince, allow the Maester to see to your brother, he is in a very bad way.” Barristan soothed, getting the older Prince’s mind focusing on something else, something much more important.

 

Rhaegar all but deflated and he sunk into a chair beside the bed as Grand Maester Pycelle, cowed and browbeaten into a quaking silence, removed the layers of white cloaks to reveal the beaten, bloody mess of the body below.

Barristan watched Rhaegar’s face turn a paler shade of whitish-green, as if he were going to be sick, as all the blood drained slowly from his face as he looked upon his beloved younger brother. When the makeshift dressings were removed to reveal the inflamed, infected wounds below, Rhaegar was actually sick into a convenient bowl.

It took hours to clean and dress the numerous injuries that Haradarian had sustained, large and small, patiently easing various medicines into his body by massaging his throat in his unconsciousness and through it all, he slept on, his breathing ragged and uneven, his body convulsing at odd moments, causing fresh blood to seep from his mouth, and at one point his nose too.

 

“I have done all that I can for the moment.” Pycelle insisted. “He needs to rest.”

 

Rhaegar didn’t wait to be told twice, he scooped up his brother and carried him, unthinkingly, to his own bed chambers.

 

“My Prince?” Barristan asked.

 

“He’s staying here, where I can watch him at all hours.” Rhaegar answered firmly. “Rhaegon has been staying in my room too.” He nodded to the cradle that Haradarian had had made by a woodworker down in Kings Landing instead of importing one from across the sea as was the usual custom of royalty and the nobility. It had made him very popular with the woodworker, his apprentices, and their families. It was a beautiful cradle, carved with dragons and the Targaryen sigil and painted red and black. Haradarian had been so happy with it that he had paid more than what was being asked for it, as a tip for good service and better craftsmanship.

 

Barristan watched as the oldest Prince finished cleaning off his brother’s body and dressed him in a very loose tunic…one of his own, Barristan realised as it was much too big to be one of Haradarian’s.

Rhaegar tucked his brother in and then just sort of hovered over him, not knowing what to do next, but needing to do something, needing something to keep his mind occupied.

 

“There were three survivors of the Brotherhood, my Prince.” Barristan informed him and he knew that it had been the right thing to say when those purple eyes lit up with a renewed purpose. “Prince Haradarian woke up just once in the Kingswood and he informed us that he wanted the one to remain alive, the other two, however…” Barristan trailed off and Rhaegar inhaled deeply.

 

“Did he say why the one had to remain alive?”

 

“I believe that he wants to administer his own personal punishment upon him.”

 

Prince Rhaegar nodded, looked back at the bed, to his brother, and then he straightened his back. “I shall deal with the other two, then. Please stay here and guard my brother, Ser.”

 

Barristan nodded and he got into a defensive position, standing two paces from the side of the bed, facing the door, his hand on the pommel of his sword, which was loose in its scabbard, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

Prince Rhaegar left to exact his own revenge upon the two prisoners that Haradarian hadn’t claimed for himself and Barristan was left standing with his back straight, his eyes focused solely upon the door, ready and willing to defend the boy behind him with his very life. No one was hurting the boy behind him again, not on his watch.

He was relieved from his duty several hours later by the Lord Commander himself and in that time, Prince Haradarian hadn’t even stirred, but neither had he heaved up any more blood, which could only be counted as a good thing at this stage.

The following week was the hardest, was the most strained and tense week that Barristan could remember ever living through. Prince Rhaegar was filled with wroth and he was not only taking on a likeness of his Father, he was revelling in the pain of the two men who had harmed his brother. King Aerys was oddly proud of this behaviour and the frail man was sitting back and enjoying the pain also, as Rhaegar directed what was to happen to the men, doled out, unquestioned, by the King’s Justice, Ser Ardwell Celtigar. At least Prince Rhaegar still had enough about himself to order all women away from the scene and had forbidden Prince Viserys and Prince Rhaegon from being present for the daily torture of the two men, who had both started begging for death on the very first day of their punishments. A plea that had, so far, been ignored and not granted.

The very next day, marking the first day of the second week of Prince Haradarian’s rescue, Prince Rhaegar executed both men with fire, which pleased his Father so much that the old man cried proud, happy tears and he embraced his oldest son for long minutes with his weakening arms.

Ser Barristan only found out why Prince Rhaegar had executed the two men so suddenly when a grey coloured Prince Haradarian was helped to a chair for the midday meal that same day. He was not the only one to let out a shaky breath of relief at seeing the young Prince awake, even if he did look terrible and close to death still with his eyes glassy and surrounded by blackish-purple circles. He was naked from the waist up, his one shoulder heavily bandaged, the other arm strapped up, and his body was still bruised and there were odd cuts and scars everywhere. He looked tired, tired and sad.

 

“Sit carefully.” Rhaegar told his brother as he helped Haradarian sit with a grimace of pain. “Is that okay? Do you need anything? Water perhaps?”

 

“Water please.” Haradarian all but whispered, his voice tight with pain and hushed with disuse.

 

Rhaegar almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get the water for his brother and he helped him to drink from the goblet.

 

“Do you want some broth?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, I need my son.”

 

“He’s been fed, he’s taking a small nap.” Rhaegar insisted. “Just rest for a moment. I don’t like you being up and out of bed.”

 

“I’m not wasting my life in bed.” Harry insisted with a croak, his voice breaking on his last word.

 

“You only woke up this morning, you need more rest than that.”

 

“You said I’d been in bed for a week, sleeping. That’s plenty of rest.” Haradarian said stubbornly and Barristan smiled. He was so happy, so relieved to see him awake and up that he just wanted to hug the boy tight and hold him close.

 

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.” Rhaegar said firmly.

 

“Don’t fuss, Rhaegar. You’ll turn into an old woman. You’ll be embroidering and weaving soon.”

 

“If you weren’t so injured you’d get a whack for that.” Rhaegar insisted with an indulgent smile.

 

Haradarian laughed at that. It was tired and soft, but Barristan closed his eyes and savoured the sound. It was the sweetest laugh he’d yet heard, made all the more special because of the circumstances and the horrors of captivity that Haradarian had suffered through. That anyone could wake up from what he had suffered through and still laugh and smile…Haradarian was probably the strongest man that Barristan knew in ways that other men could hardly comprehend.

 

“Eat something, just a little bit.” Rhaegar insisted.

 

Haradarian sighed. “You wait until I’m better so I can hit you with more force than a dropped feather.”

 

Rhaegar just smiled, more alert and alive than he’d been in the last few weeks as he picked up a small spoon and dipped it into a pot of honey. He held the spoon out and Haradarian gave in and took the honey from the spoon with his mouth, being fed like a babe by his older brother as neither of his arms would be able to hold anything.

 

“You knew I wouldn’t resist the honey.” Haradarian accused.

 

“You never can. Honey is your weakness.”

 

Haradarian just smiled weakly and took another spoon of honey and some more water. They carried this on in near silence for a little longer before Haradarian took a last spoon of honey and then shook his head.

 

“No more, Rhaegar.” He said before turning to put his back to his brother before lying back and resting on him.

 

Rhaegar immediately shifted and pulled Harry into his lap to cradle him more securely. Haradarian didn’t protest, he was already half asleep and Rhaegar ignored everyone else as he stood up and carried his brother back to bed. It was just a relief to finally see Prince Haradarian up and about and, mostly, unchanged. He was still hurt, still injured and he needed more time to heal fully, but he was alive and he was recovering. That was the best news that Barristan had heard in a long while.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry was so sad over the next few days. He was still recovering from his brutal captivity with the Kingswood Brotherhood and from the subsequent miscarriage he had suffered. The both of them, him and Rhaegar, were devastated by the loss of their second child and Harry was struggling to cope with it all, his miscarriage, his captivity and the abuse and rape he had suffered through.

Rhaegar was being very gentle with him, so soft and careful and Harry was finding it tiresome as it continued. He just wanted his Husband back, the man he had married. He was grateful for the help, as he did need it, but the way Rhaegar placed his hands carefully, avoiding certain areas, it was driving Harry insane as he just wanted things to be normal again, he wanted to try for another baby with Rhaegar, but his Husband refused him, telling him that he was nowhere near enough healed or recovered. Harry wondered if he would ever be recovered enough in Rhaegar’s mind.

The best thing, however, was being reunited with his baby son, Rhaegon, who was now nine turns old. He had missed Rhaegon so much as he was stuck, suffering, in a crow cage as he was fed crumbs and given barely enough water to keep himself alive. He had spent his seventeenth name day that way.

His arms shook as he held the heavy babe, who felt like he was made entirely of stone to his weakened arms, but he refused to let him go or put him down. Viserys was very rough in his greeting and he almost bowled Harry over onto his arse. He might have fallen if not for Prince Lewyn catching and steadying him.

It took four days after he’d first woken up before someone broached the subject of his captivity, and the remaining prisoner who was jailed in the deepest, darkest and dankest cell that they could find for him. Naturally it was King Aerys who broached the subject while the royal family, and their esteemed guests, Princess Elia and Lady Ashara, were breaking their fast.

 

“Haradarian, my son.” King Aerys greeted feebly as he all but collapsed into his chair and used his overgrown fingernails to tear into a loaf of bread.

 

“Father.” Harry greeted, a bit more colour to his cheeks today, a bit more alertness to his dark, grass green eyes.

 

“You still have not punished the prisoner that you wanted to keep alive. Such an insult cannot go unpunished. You need to pass your judgement on him and have him punished!”

 

“Pardon?” He asked, a look of confusion on his weary face.

 

“You asked for one prisoner to be kept alive.” Rhaegar told him. “Three were taken alive, but the other two were executed, leaving just the one remaining.”

 

“I don’t remember.” He said. “I believed them all dead.”

 

“No, there was one in particular that you asked to be kept alive, my Prince.” Ser Arthur said softly, respectfully.

 

“If you do not remember, I will have him brought up for you.” King Aerys said as he dipped bread chunks into honey before putting it in his mouth.

 

Harry nodded his agreement and he sighed, turned off his food by the thought of even one member of his captors surviving.

 

“Mother, I am sorry to ask you again after you’ve already done so much, but could you please watch Rhaegon for me while I sort this matter?”

 

“Of course, Haradarian. I love spending time with him, you just get better, my love.”

 

Harry sighed and he kissed his son before handing him over to his Mother. He checked on all of his wounds for tears or bleeding before dipping a clean linen cloth in a mixture that he’d made from boiled water, vinegar, salt and crushed cloves that he’d taken from the pouches tied to his belt before pressing against each and every single wound he had with gritted teeth, asking Rhaegar to tend the wounds on his back that he couldn’t easily reach.

He had replaced the ugly, haphazard stitches given to him by the aging Pycelle with small, neat little rows of stitches that would heal much quicker and much more neatly. There was talk of dismissing the Grand Maester from his position as he had been caught abed with a prostitute, which went against his oaths as a servant of the Citadel, and he had clearly aged too much to adequately put in stitches. Harry was pushing for his replacement as an unasked favour to house Tyrell, as Gormon Tyrell, Lord Mace Tyrell’s Uncle, was next in line for the Grand Maester position.

Once he was done with the bathing of his wounds, Harry stood with Rhaegar’s strong arm for support. The Ladies were staying here to do whatever they were going to do as they moved over to the soft seats around the fire down the other end of the hall. Ser Willem Darry, the Master-at-arms took Viserys for his sword practice and Harry headed to the Great Hall with Rhaegar and their Father, the Kingsguard following, all except for ancient Harlan Grandison, who was to stand guard over the Ladies, the Queen and Prince Rhaegon.

His legs almost folded on him when he saw exactly who was being dragged towards him, Rhaegar had to catch him, but his reaction did not go unnoticed by those in attendance. He shook almost violently as he looked, with furious eyes, at this vile beast, held on his knees before him.

He breathed deeply and swallowed hard. He breathed out harshly and he held on tightly to Rhaegar’s arm for support and comfort.

 

“Why did you want this one alive?” Rhaegar asked.

 

Harry swallowed again. “He used me like a woman.” He admitted softly, clutching Rhaegar’s arm, feeling the muscle tense under his own hands. “Every night of my captivity when everyone else was asleep.”

 

“You wanted to punish him personally.” King Aerys hissed softly.

 

Harry nodded silently, staring at the huddled form below him. Everything was silent for a moment before Harry turned to the King’s Justice, Lord Ardwell Celtigar, whose family had been banner men of the Targaryens since they had brought them closer to Westeros from Valyria over four centuries before and saving them, and the Velaryons, from the Doom of Valyria that would have otherwise seen their entire families wiped out like so many others.

 

“Take his tongue and his manhood.” He said dispassionately remembering his thoughts from when he was first captured and this man had licked him for the first time. “The tongue that he used to lick the skin he didn’t have the permission to touch and the manhood he used to defile me.”

 

“Have mercy.” The man whimpered in terror.

 

“Mercy?” Harry echoed softly. “Mercy…you dare plead to _me_ for mercy when you showed me none? I didn’t expect any mercy as a captive, so I didn’t abase myself by asking for that which I knew I wouldn’t receive. How dare you try and plead mercy from me after what you did to me, the disrespect that you showed to me. No, there will be no mercy in this room. Ser Ardwell, I want his tongue and his manhood, and the filthy hands that dared touch me in such a manner too, and I want them nailed to the wall of Traitor’s Walk.”

 

The King’s Justice, Lord Ardwell Celtigar, who was also a Ser as he was knighted, picked up a pair of pincers and got two gaolers to assist him as Lord Ardwell placed the pincers, a sword and a sharp dagger on a brazier to heat them up.

Harry forced himself to watch, he forced himself to ignore the pleads and the screams as the two gaolers held his attacker between them, one digging his fingers into his jaw to keep his mouth open as Lord Ardwell ripped his tongue out with the hot pincers.

As the man was screaming with tears streaming down his face, the two gaolers pinned him down and held his hands on a wooden block. With one swing of the hot sword, Lord Ardwell cut off both hands and the screaming picked up a higher pitch, his attacker almost keening in pain from his punishment.

Even as blood flowed onto the stone, the gaolers and the King’s Justice did not pause, the man was turned onto his back and one of the gaolers gripped his attacker’s manhood and pulled it taut. With one slice of a hot, sharp blade, Ser Ardwell castrated the man, cock and balls. All the wounds were cauterised by the hot metal, as Harry had wanted.

Harry breathed deeply, ignoring the tang of blood at the back of his nose. He also smelt piss and burning meat, but that was to be expected and he didn’t comment on it. He took various bottles from his belt as he approached the sobbing, hysterical man before he knelt on the stone floor and administered the medicines as he bound the stumps at the wrist with clean linen cloths.

 

“What are you doing, my son?” King Aerys asked him.

 

“Healing him.” Harry replied shortly.

 

“Pray tell, why?” Rhaegar demanded. “After what he’s done to you…”

 

“I know better than anyone what he did to me, Rhaegar. Do you think a simple sword will be a good enough death now? Oh no.” He replied, feeling a vicious streak flare up within him. “I will not take his tongue, manhood and hands and then give him a simple sword to die upon before he’s even had a chance to live without them. He has not suffered nearly enough yet. So I will heal him, I will keep him alive and I will have him crawling after me on his remaining stumps until I no longer find amusement from it. Then and only then, will I deem him punished enough for death. Do you disagree with my choice?”

 

“No.” Rhaegar said gently.

 

“Death by fire?” His Father asked like a small child asking for another cake.

 

Harry considered that for a moment, thinking that once again burning the prisoner as their Father would have done would get him back into his Father’s good graces and, his mind made up, he nodded visibly. “Yes, death by fire is suitable.” He agreed easily.

 

He finished fixing up the man who had abused him before he stood and soaked his hands in a bowl of water to clean them of blood.

 

“Shock would have set in by now, so I imagine that he will be rather useless for today at least. Take him back to his cell and give him some barley porridge and water. Tomorrow, I want a rope around his neck and he will follow me wherever I go and everyone who sees him _will_ kick him.”

 

“I will see it done, my Prince.” Ser Ardwell Celtigar bowed to him and then he roughly yanked up the still crying man and dragged him back to the dungeons.

 

Harry sunk to one knee when his attacker was gone and he shook violently, almost on the verge of tears. He heaved and then vomited onto the stone floor.

 

“Are you okay?” Rhaegar asked him, crouching down beside him and laying a gentle hand on his back.

 

“Give me a moment.” He insisted, fighting the urge to breathe deeply to avoid the smell of the room that was making him sick, but also fighting the urge to breathe rapidly as he took small, slow, shallow breaths.

 

“Torture takes some getting used to.” His Father told him, not unkindly.

 

Harry shook his head. “It’s not that. I’m reliving what he did to me and I can’t put it from my mind.” He admitted.

 

Rhaegar held him then, comforting him and Harry couldn’t stop himself, he started crying.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cried. “Please forgive me.” He begged.

 

“There’s nothing to forgive. There is nothing to be apologetic for. This was not your fault, you were a captive.” Rhaegar soothed gently, holding him tightly.

 

Harry just cried harder into Rhaegar’s neck, holding him tightly, unwilling to let go of him.

 

“I think you’ve had enough for one day, let me help you back to bed so that you can rest for a little longer.” Rhaegar told him softly, rubbing his back.

 

Harry just nodded and Rhaegar stood and picked Harry up, carrying him to his own bed chambers, where Harry had been sleeping, and he tucked Harry up in bed as Harry’s sobs trailed off to huffy breaths and sniffles. Rhaegar sat next to him and brushed his fingers through Harry’s hair gently.

 

“I love you so much, Harry.” He said quietly. “Nothing you could ever do would make me stop loving you. This was not your fault and we will try for another baby.”

 

“Really?” Harry asked tentatively, sniffing hard.

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Yes, we will, as soon as all of these wounds have healed and you are no longer in danger of ripping your stitches, but we will come through this stronger, my love. Together as one.”

 

Harry smiled happily and he pulled Rhaegar down for a hug, holding his Husband to him tightly.

 

“Thank you, Rhaegar.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault that you lost the babe, Haradarian. It was theirs, please don’t blame yourself for this, it will never happen again.”

 

Harry nodded and he let go of all his tension and he relaxed himself, holding Rhaegar as he slipped off to sleep for a while. He needed to rest to be able to recover and he wanted to recover now, he wanted to go back to normal and he would never let himself become a captive again. He had been beaten, starved and raped, at the complete mercy of his captors, but he could also easily have been maimed or mutilated. It could never happen again, he would never travel again without knights of renown…the household knights had been useless and many of them had fled, if they were lucky, they’d get exile and banishment as their punishment for leaving him to face those outlaws by himself, if not then they would lose their lives for leaving him to such a fate, but he would deal with their abandonment at a later date, when he was stronger and more able to deal with such things, but for now, all he wanted was to sleep safely in the arms of his beloved Husband.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

It took him a week before he could stay awake all day again without needing to take a small nap to reenergize himself during the day. It took another four days after that before he grew bored of having his mutilated pet hobble on the stumps of his arms behind him everywhere he went, begging wordlessly and crying for death as servants kicked the brute as hard as they could as they went about their daily tasks. Prince Lewyn, who was Harry’s personal guard while he was recovering, kicked the man with his boot if he so much as slowed down, or if he felt that he hadn’t been kicked in a while, or just because he was stood there and a little bored. Harry didn’t mind, this man had attacked him and likely would have done the same to Prince Lewyn’s niece, Princess Elia, as he had done to Harry if he’d had the chance. Lewyn had every right to kick the shit whenever he wanted to, it amused Harry.

But Harry was bored of having a crippled shadow, so he had told his Father that the man was to be burned. His Father had hugged him in joyous excitement and had taken the rope from Harry’s hand and tugged the filth behind him. Harry once again leant on Rhaegar for support, but he was getting better now. Some of his smaller and shallower wounds had already healed and he believed that they wouldn’t scar. Some of the larger, deeper wounds were taking a bit more time, but he kept them all very clean and re-stitched them if needed.

He had stood stoically next to Rhaegar and his Father as his attacker was dipped in pitch and then tied up and set on fire by Lord Celtigar and his gaolers, who were very used to doing as such now, with his Father’s new obsession with fire and with burning people. Harry had stood there and held his stomach, letting the fire cleanse his memories of his captivity and as the warbling screams trailed off to just the crackling of burning fat and meat, he pushed it behind him. Only one member of the Brotherhood was still alive now and he had been sent to the wall. He was five hundred leagues away from him and that suited Harry just fine, knowing that the outlaw was toiling in the icy cold of Castle Black.

Rhaegar had dropped him off at the solar in the Maidenvault before going out to the yard to practice at the rings for the upcoming tourney at Harrenhal and Harry had been forced to play social host to Lady Ashara, who had been watching over Rhaegon for him while he dealt with his captor, and the Lannister twins, who were here visiting as their Father was the Hand of the King. Lord Tywin Lannister had brought Cersei to court with him some turns ago to show her off, possibly to try and entice Rhaegar to her and into a marriage, needless to say that that plan had failed as Rhaegar only had eyes for him and their baby son Rhaegon. Jaime was still here after the battling with the Brotherhood too, he was due to go back to Casterly Rock after the tourney at Harrenhal however as there was talk that Lord Lannister was keeping them separated for some reason. It was very curious to Harry, who loved solving such mysteries, and why Lord Tywin wanted to separate, and keep separated, his twin children was a very big mystery.

The Lady Cersei Lannister was watching him in rapt fascination as he had accidentally tore the worst of his injuries, the shoulder wound, at the small social gathering in the solar of the Maidenvault where Lady Ashara and Princess Elia were staying during their visit to Kings Landing. He’d had no other choice but to re-stitch it as he’d ripped the stitches in his arm almost clean out with a convulsion that he couldn’t really control. So he sat there and calmly pulled out the remains of the old stitches and put in the new ones before crushing up salt and cloves and mixing them with vinegar and boiled water to press against the wound to clean it, gritting his teeth as he breathed through the pain.

 

“Does it hurt terribly?” The Lady Ashara asked him gently, laying her small hand on his knee.

 

“Not too terribly any more.” Harry replied as he took the linen from his arm, looked at the wound, before he dipped the cloth again and reapplied it. “It was worse when it was fresh. It was in the early stages of infection, so this mixture stung a lot more then than it does now.”

 

“You’re so clever.” Lady Ashara complimented him easily. “I can’t believe you earned six silver links!”

 

“Thank you, my Lady, it is kind of you to say as such.”

 

“Where is your chain, my Prince?” She asked curiously.

 

“In my rooms for the moment. I will start wearing it again once I am healed, for the moment it rubs against some of my injuries and causes irritation and slight pain. It’s more of an annoyance to wear it, so it’s staying off for now.”

 

“Where is Prince Rhaegar?” Lady Cersei asked him and Harry wanted to tip his healing mixture into her eyes.

 

“He is in the yard, practising for the tourney at Harrenhal.”

 

“I have heard rumour around the castle that he is marrying Princess Elia. Is it true?” Lady Ashara asked with a smile at Harry. “The servants are very excited about it.”

 

“It is not common knowledge yet, but I am not surprised that the servants have heard as such and are already gossiping about it. It is true, yes. They are marrying to strengthen the neglected relationship with Dorne and the plans have already been set into motion for the wedding and the preparations have already begun as enough food is being set aside for the feast.”

 

“But he doesn’t truly love her?” Cersei jumped in quickly.

 

“Not yet, they have only had a short amount of time to get used to one another, but Rhaegar is very fond of Elia already, love will come with time. I’m sure of it.” He lied easily. “Especially when Elia gives him children, Rhaegar wants nothing more than to be a Father now that he’s two-and-twenty.”

 

“Will you be at the tourney at Harrenhal, my Prince?” Jaime Lannister asked, obviously bored with the talk of weddings, love and children.

 

Harry inclined his head “I will be, but I’m not taking part. Rhaegon and I will be happy to cheer Rhaegar to victory, but it is very doubtful that I will be fully healed, so it will be wiser to sit this tourney out.”

 

“I plan to take part now that I’m a knight.”

 

Harry sighed internally. Jaime had been mentioning that he’d been knighted during his rescue as often as he could and Harry was getting sick of the reminder that he had been a captive, even if Jaime likely didn’t mean it that way. It was just a coincidence that he’d been knighted by Ser Arthur for handling his own against the Smiling Knight in the Kingswood and of course he was immensely proud of that achievement, but all Harry could remember when it was mentioned was the filth who had raped him, as well as being beaten, starved and locked in a small crow cage while he was bound and helpless, all of which Jaime knew as he’d been there, in that clearing, for his rescue and Jaime had seen the dire state of him, and it made Harry’s whole body go cold to remember that time of his life, it was still too recent, too raw.

 

“Oh, were you knighted, Jaime?” Lady Ashara asked in false surprise. “I had no idea, you should have mentioned it sooner.”

 

Harry coughed to hide his laugh, but then he sat smiling, trying to be gracious, but he was among his peers here and he couldn’t help it.

 

“Why are you here except to be a servant to Princess Elia?” Cersei snapped quickly, in defence of her twin brother.

 

“I am a lady-in-waiting.” Lady Ashara sniffed. “Pray tell, why are _you_ here?”

 

 “My Father is the Hand of the King.” Cersei said furiously.

 

“The King’s servant, you mean.” Lady Ashara said with another sniff, remembering Harry telling her that King Aerys had declined the offer for Cersei to be married to Rhaegar and to Harry due to him seeing Tywin Lannister as a servant.

 

“Your brother is a servant to the King too!” Cersei insisted.

 

“The Kingsguard are highly honoured and we thank them graciously for their courage and bravery.” Harry chimed in immediately. “The Kingsguard are not our servants, they are our shield. Strong, brave men who endanger their own lives for mine and my family’s. We reward them heavily for their loyalty and their protection, we owe them our very lives and I for one do not see the Kingsguard as mere servants.”

 

“Well said, brother.” Rhaegar said. “The Kingsguard are to be highly respected at all times for their loyal, brave service. We owe them our lives, as they shield us against all sides. I will not allow anyone to speak ill of them.” He insisted as he walked over from where he had entered the room and he took Rhaegon from his cradle and instead held him in his arms.

 

“Don’t you dare wake that baby up.” Harry warned him.

 

Rhaegar chuckled. “I’m not going to wake him up.”

 

“You had better not, it took me an hour to get him to sleep.”

 

“Really, why?”

 

“More teeth are coming in and he’s very, very grouchy.”

 

“That makes six teeth.” Rhaegar said happily.

 

“Seven.” Harry corrected. “Two teeth are coming in together.”

 

“Then it isn’t any wonder that he’s grouchy.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement as Rhaegar sat next to him with a sleeping, red cheeked, Rhaegon. Harry cupped a little cheek, feeling the heat of it and he sighed.

 

“I need to stew some ginger in hot water to give to him later. It’ll help with the inflammation.” Harry sighed, standing up. “I’m sure I have some in my rooms. Ladies, Ser Jaime, please excuse us.”

 

Rhaegar stood and followed him out of the solar they had been sat in, over the serpentine steps and into Maegor’s Holdfast. Harry waved to Ser Jonothor Darry who was standing guard over Maegor’s Bridge. Harry hailed a passing servant for a cup of boiling water to be brought to Rhaegar’s rooms immediately.

He made it to his own rooms as Rhaegar went further down the corridor to his rooms as Harry went hunting through his herbs and medicinal things. He finally found the root of ginger in a cloth bag and he hurried down the corridor. Rhaegar was just taking the boiling cup of water from a kitchen servant when Harry arrived. Rhaegar put the cup on his table and Harry used his silver dagger to put a few, thin slices of ginger into the cup and he left it to cool.

He went and bolted the door and he turned to Rhaegar with a smile.

 

“We haven’t been alone with a sleeping baby for a while.” Harry said with a smile as he took Rhaegon from Rhaegar and laid him in his main cradle that had been moved into Rhaegar’s room during his captivity. Harry had yet to move back into his own rooms after his rescue.

 

He threw his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and kissed him.

 

“Are you alright to do this?” Rhaegar asked. “Some of your wounds have yet to heal and I said that I’d wait until all of them were healed. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

 

“It’s only really the one in my shoulder that’s causing problems still.” Harry said with a grin. “If I lie down and don’t move it much…”

 

Rhaegar chuckled as Harry trailed off suggestively and he swung him up by his waist and tipped him onto the bed, falling lightly on top of him. Harry laughed and reached up to pull Rhaegar’s mouth to his own so that they could kiss.

 

“I’ve missed you greatly, but if at any point you want to stop, just say so.” Rhaegar said seriously as he pulled back from their kiss.

 

“Rhaegar, stop ruining the mood.” Harry sighed. “I’m fine, but I need the love of my Husband. I need to know that you still love me, that you can still…that you can still touch me and desire me.”

 

Rhaegar sighed himself and laid fully on top of him and they kissed again.

 

“Of course I still love you. Of course I’ve wanted nothing more than to ravish you. You were gone for two and three quarter turns and once you were back you slept for another week. I missed you in those three turns.”

 

Harry smiled and he kissed Rhaegar hard. It felt good to touch Rhaegar like this, to be able to kiss him without worrying who was near or who was watching them. He’d been so miserable these last few weeks without the touch of his Husband. It felt so good to have that back now as Rhaegar shoved up his tunic and kissed over his belly, moving up to his chest and paying extra attention to his flat nipples.

 

“I’m sorry that you lost your milk.” Rhaegar told him softly.

 

Harry smiled bravely, but the thought was still upsetting. During his captivity, when he was being starved, his small breasts had disappeared and when he’d come home, despite getting Rhaegon to latch onto him, no milk came and it hadn’t come since. His milk had dried up and now his big boy was eating only solid foods.

 

“It’s alright. With any luck, and the blessing of the Seven, we’ll conceive another babe today. I couldn’t help having a miscarriage, it would not have been my choice, but I want another baby, Rhaegar. I want so many more.”

 

Rhaegar shivered and he nodded, pulling Harry’s tunic all the way off before pulling down his breeches, leaving him in just his linen smallclothes for all of a moment before he slipped those off of his legs too.

Harry wriggled on the bed and he sighed softly as Rhaegar’s lips touched his skin, kissing him, sucking on the small patch of skin just inside his hip that made his breath hitch. His hands were not idle either, stroking slowly up and caressing down his legs before teasing his sensitive inner thighs, making him spread his legs apart with a soft moan.

Rhaegar shifted his body to lie in between his spread legs and he moved down just slightly, so that his mouth was right between his legs and Harry let out a soft sound as Rhaegar took him into his mouth and sucked him. He loved it when Rhaegar sucked him.

He only barely had enough sense left in him to clamp his teeth into his fist. His other hand pushed and stroked through Rhaegar’s silver hair, pulling tufts of it out of his braid as his legs tangled around Rhaegar’s back, locking together and holding him in place as that wicked mouth pleasured him so wonderfully.

He was heavy breathing and moaning softly, biting into his own hand to prevent passing people from hearing his screams of pleasure. He couldn’t wait until he no longer had to stifle his sounds and he could scream as loudly as he liked and have both hands free to touch Rhaegar as he wanted.

 

“I can’t…” He moaned, his head twisting from side to side, gasping harshly as his legs quivered from the sensations. “Please, Rhaegar.” He begged.

 

Rhaegar pulled off of him with a deep inhale and he panted rapidly. “On your knees.” He told him and Harry complied, moving upright on his knees and then turning to put his back to Rhaegar when he was positioned as such. “This position will be easier on you.” His brother-husband said gently.

 

Harry nodded and he bit into his lip when an oiled finger stroked into his body carefully.

 

“Does that hurt?”

 

“No. It’s the extreme opposite of hurting, Rhaegar.” He said with a shiver, his body clenching tightly on that wonderful finger. He moaned softly and gasped as the special spot inside of him was touched.

 

As soon as Rhaegar had found that spot, he made sure that didn’t lose it again, his finger played over that spot, one stroke after another.

 

“Faster or slower?” Rhaegar asked him breathlessly.

 

“Slower.” Harry moaned and he threw his head back onto Rhaegar’s shoulder when the strokes slowed right down and evened out to a slow, rhythmic glide over that single spot that forced him closer to orgasm.

 

He lifted his arms up and behind him, being careful of his one shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and turned his head to seek out Rhaegar’s mouth for a kiss that was readily given.

 

“Tap it.” Harry ordered, his legs wobbling violently as the pleasure became too much.

 

Rhaegar immediately stopped stroking and instead bounced his finger repeatedly against the spot and Harry made a soft, keening noise, both hands fisting into the hair at the back of Rhaegar’s head. He wriggled about, but Rhaegar’s free arm wrapped, steel tight, around his waist and hips, holding him still as the bouncing picked up pace and Harry’s breathing came quicker and shallower as he panted through the sensations taking over his body and mind.

It became too much and just as he orgasmed, Rhaegar pushed his tongue into his mouth and kissed him hard, swallowing his scream of pleasure.

Rhaegar carefully pulled away from him, gently laying Harry on the bed and letting him recover slightly from the sensations. Once Harry had gotten his breath back, Rhaegar used more oil and slipped two fingers into Harry’s body. He was too relaxed and sated to complain or fight those fingers, he only tensed up slightly at the stretch before he settled back down again with a happy moan, letting Rhaegar play with him, stretch him, pleasure him.

 

“How does that feel?” Rhaegar asked breathlessly.

 

“Don’t make me speak.” He grunted. “You know it feels wonderful.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled. “Just making sure.”

 

“Please, I won’t be able to handle three orgasms.” He complained through his rapid breaths. “I’m ready now.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“You never have.” Harry said as he pushed his hips back onto those fingers. “Please, I can feel another orgasm building already.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled deeply as he slowly slipped his fingers free of his body before he oiled himself up and positioned Harry carefully on his back, bending his knees over his elbows and shuffling forward and pressing himself in with one smooth movement. Harry gasped happily and he rolled his hips gently, taking Rhaegar all of the way in when Rhaegar stopped at half way.

 

“Too fast.” Rhaegar grunted as he shivered, holding himself still, clamping his hands onto Harry’s hips to prevent either of them moving.

 

The both of them lay still, breathing harshly and raggedly as they waited for their bodies to settle and the spike of overwhelming pleasure to ease back. Harry puckered his mouth and Rhaegar immediately dropped down to kiss him, licking at Harry’s lips until they opened and then he darted his tongue into his mouth to kiss him deeply.

While they were kissing, Rhaegar started rocking his hips ever so carefully and Harry made soft noises into their kiss as the minute push and pull of Rhaegar in his body had his gut clenching with pleasure and he moaned into their kiss.

He twisted his head away and he pushed his fingers through Rhaegar’s silver hair.

 

“Please.” He begged. “I’m ready. You’re not going to hurt me. I’m not going to break, please. This slow, careful torture is driving me out of my mind.”

 

Rhaegar grinned at him and took him at his word, pulling out further, until only the tip of him was left inside his body, before pushing forward again until he was fully inside. It drove the breath from Harry’s lungs and he gasped and then moaned in quick succession, clenching his fingers tight in that perfect, silver hair and tugging.

 

“Rhaegar!” He gasped, slipping his one leg free from his brother’s elbow and hooking it over his thigh instead, resting his foot on a calf. The new position let Rhaegar push even deeper into him and he rubbed over that already sensitised special spot and Harry got louder and more active, rolling his hips up as Rhaegar pushed into him and panted heavily into their wet, furious kisses.

 

Rhaegar lost himself first, with one final push, he stilled at the deepest part he could reach into Harry’s body and the muscles in his legs tensed all at once and the joints of his body locked as he threw his head back with his orgasm.

Harry mewled and keened as he felt a hot wetness inside him as he tried to urge Rhaegar to keep moving as he rocked his own hips, but Rhaegar’s body was like stone, heavy and immovable, he had to wait out his brother’s orgasm before he got his own, but it was worth it when Rhaegar dropped down to the side of him and used his hand to tug him to completion.

They lay quietly together, breathing heavily, their bodies slicked with the sweat of their exertion, but the both of them were so happy, were so sated and pleased as they lay curled up together, just enjoying the quiet as their bond resettled and they got used to the physical connection once more.

Harry sighed and turned, curling up in Rhaegar’s arms with a yawn, snuggling his face into Rhaegar’s body.

 

“Call me in an hour.” He said tiredly.

 

“Rhaegon will be awake before then.”

 

Harry hummed. “Let him be our wakeup call then, we can hardly ignore such a loud, persistent cry. I’ll give him the ginger water then.”

 

Rhaegar laughed softly. “No, it’s not very likely that we won’t hear him. Just rest a little, everything’s going to be fine.”

 

“Better than fine.” Harry insisted sleepily before he stayed quiet and drifted into a light doze.

 

Everything would be fine now, no one could harm him in such a manner again, he wouldn’t allow it. He had his Husband back with him, they were being physical once more after what had happened to him and he still had his baby son, Rhaegon. He had lost a babe at two turns, but with any luck, and the blessing of the gods both old and new, he would be pregnant again now. He could get over what had happened to him, with Rhaegar’s help. They had lost a babe, but their Rhaegon was completely fine and safe and they would carry on as they had been and they would have more babes in the future, even if he had to pray to the Seven and to the old gods day and night until he fell pregnant again, he would, but he would be absolutely fine given some more time to recover, absolutely fine as his brother-husband pulled him in closer to his body and he was able to snuggle in close to Rhaegar’s chest to take a small nap.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harrenhal was immense. Its unbeaten, record title of the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms did not prepare one for the sheer, dizzying size of the place. It was a black, hideous ruin, the stone melted in places by dragonfire during Aegon’s Conquering after King Harren Hoare, known as Harren the Black, refused to yield to Aegon.

Harry looked at the five towers and picked out the tallest tower, Kingspyre. The tower where his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had roasted Harren and his sons alive with Balerion the Black Dread three centuries before. He still remembered his Father telling him that story as a very young boy sat on his knee.

 

‘Harren said to Aegon, what is outside my walls is of no concern to me. Those walls are strong and thick. So Aegon replied to him, but they are not so high as to keep out a dragon for dragons fly. But Harren would not have it that his monumental castle was so defenceless, was such a waste when faced with Balerion the Black Dread. His last words to Aegon were his folly, he told him that stone does not burn. Aegon replied to him simply, Haradarian my son, he said, when the sun sets, your line shall end. And so it did. Aegon the conqueror, upon Balerion the Black Dread, roasted Harren and his sons alive in the tallest tower of his castle and thus ended house Hoare.’

 

Harry shivered as he remembered the story and he gave a prayer to the Mother and to the Father to protect him and his family while they were here. Harrenhal was cursed and bad things happened to those who stayed here.

 

“Not superstitious are you, brother?” Rhaegar smiled. 

 

“Not exactly, Rhaegar. But this is a cursed place. A stable boy was telling me that he once heard King Harren screaming and shouting in that tower there, the one they call the Wailing Tower. They say that Harren and his sons prowl the corridors at night.”

 

“It’s all lies and stories, my Prince.” Ser Oswell told him kindly. “I was born here and I’ve lived here, I have not once heard any wailing or seen any shades and in my youth I actually went looking for them…there is nought in those towers but ruins, cobwebs and bats.”

 

Harry took a deep, calming breath and he nodded. “The godswood was unaffected?”

 

Ser Oswell nodded. “The Sept was ruined, but the godswood remains untouched.”

 

“I should like to visit it before I even sit down at any table in this castle.”

 

“You are afraid.” Rhaegar said in surprise.

 

“Cautious.” Harry replied bitingly as he hefted up his son, who was now eleven turns old and very big and very heavy. In just three weeks he would be celebrating his very first name day. “I have more than myself to think of if this place really is cursed and I will not take the risk. I will ask for the protection of the old gods before I break any bread or take any salt.”

 

“I will come with you.” Rhaegar said. “Ser, your services will not be required.”

 

“My Prince, I must insist.” Ser Oswell replied. “Harrenhal is a big place to get lost in and with all the people here for the tourney, I cannot risk the three of you going off with no protection.”

 

“Thank you, Ser.” Harry nodded graciously and Rhaegar did the same.

 

They were led through the, not quite as ruined, grounds of Harrenhal and around to the back of the castle, where the twenty acre godswood resided, untouched and wild.

It was quite the trek to reach the white, weirwood heart tree and it was slashed to pieces, marked by the sword swings of two warring Targaryens in 130AC during the Dance of Dragons, its carved face was twisted and terrible to look upon, but Harry did so without fear or flinching. The old gods had blessed his and Rhaegar’s marriage and they had gotten Rhaegon and a dragon egg from their union. He breathed deeply and he sunk to his knees before the heart tree and he prayed for acceptance and protection for himself and his loved ones while he was here at Harrenhal. He begged the gods to continue to look upon him favourably while he was here and to allow no harm to come to them. He stayed on his knees, Rhaegon in his arms, for long minutes to pay his respect to the old gods.

He stood and he sighed, clutching his quiet babe close to his chest. He turned back and he nodded to Ser Oswell and to Rhaegar and he was led back through the godswood as his breathing came quicker and harder. The power of this godswood was as immense as the castle and the undisturbed silence of the place was stifling. The air was thick and hard to breathe and the tingling in his fingers came on much stronger, much quicker than normal and he gasped quietly, struggling to suck in deep breaths as the innate magic of this godswood affected him, as all godswoods did. The four of them made it out of the twenty acre godswood and Harry immediately took in a great gasp of air, like a drowning man whose head had broken the surface of the water just before his lungs had shrivelled and he had died. All of the symptoms were suddenly just gone, except for his rapid breathing, but he came back into himself easily, clutching Rhaegon tightly as they were led back through the castle grounds, which didn’t seem quite so dark or shadowy any longer…was that the gods’ doing? Or was it merely his mind playing tricks upon him?

They made it to the opening feast and Harry sat at the top table with Rhaegar and Lord Whent, his four sons and young daughter for whom the tourney had been announced, the same daughter who was the reigning Queen of Love and Beauty. His Lady Wife, Shella, was sat beside her husband and then there were several noble families also at the top table and of course King Aerys. Their Father had suddenly and inexplicitly decided to come to the tourney after all. For fear of why that was, Rhaegar had called off the great council meeting for this year. It was unlikely that their Father knew of what the tourney of Harrenhal was covering, but with him in attendance, it was now too dangerous to continue with it, just in case. Rhaegar was furious at the sudden change of mind, but he said nothing, so that he wouldn’t give himself or his plans away.

Rhaegon fell onto the food happily, gnawing on bread and soft meats, chomping on cut vegetables and generally making a huge mess of himself and the table while Harry tried to ignore him on his lap as he ate his own food.

 

“Not in your hair, Rhaegon!” Harry sighed as his son decided to squeeze a fish between his fingers and then tug on his own hair.

 

Harry eased the fingers away and got a filthy hand shoved into his own face for it before Rhaegon decided to chew on more bread.

He wiped his face with a linen cloth and tried to coax his son into showing some table manners, but as Lady Shella Whent, Lord Walter Whent’s Wife, chuckled at him, he knew that he was failing badly.

 

“I do apologise.” He said politely. “This is most undignified, but he had no appetite on the road, so I am loathe to stop him now that he is finally eating something.”

 

“He is a big, hearty boy.” Lord Whent complimented easily with a wave of his hand. “Let him eat his fill, as all good men must.”

 

Harry regretted following that advice as Rhaegon knelt on his lap and reached over to Rhaegar’s plate to take his mashed turnips.

 

“Sorry, Rhaegar.” Harry sighed as he tried to prevent Rhaegon from taking the food and failing as Rhaegon used his other hand to pick up the mashed vegetable, which he then sucked off of his hand happily.

 

“It’s fine, Haradarian.” Rhaegar chuckled. “He’s growing, as Lord Whent has said. He needs to eat his fill.”

 

“If he eats any more then I’m not sure the chair will hold us both up.” Harry japed.

 

“How much have you eaten?” Rhaegar questioned.

 

Harry laughed. “The bits and pieces that Rhaegon has deigned to leave for me.”

 

“Pass him here.” Rhaegar did not wait for an answer, but took his son from him and sat him in his own lap. This pleased Rhaegon as he could reach a different part of the table and he started taking from their Father’s part, even standing up to reach what he wanted.

 

“Sorry, Father.” Harry apologised, but his Father was proud of his growing grandson and waved him away.

 

He was showing more affection to him and to Rhaegon since his captivity, and the ensuing torture and burning of the man who had violated him, even going so far as to hand Rhaegon things that he couldn’t reach.

 

“Fish.” Rhaegon demanded, reaching out his clasping hands for the baked fish between his Grandfather and Lord Whent.

 

King Aerys got a portion of the fish and placed it onto Rhaegar’s plate for Rhaegon to smash up with his hands.

 

“For the sake of the Seven.” Harry sighed, gripping Rhaegon’s hands and putting a fork into one of them. “You know how to use a fork, Rhaegon.”

 

“No.” Rhaegon insisted, throwing the fork down the table and using his hands.

 

Harry rubbed his tired eyes and took Rhaegon back onto his own lap and controlled his son, not letting him use his hands to eat and continuously offering him a fork until, with a cry of frustration, Rhaegon took the fork and used it. Harry patted his head and tried to eat a bit more himself, but he had had no appetite for the last few days either.

Rhaegon had soon eaten as much as he wanted and he curled up on Harry, his head popped over his shoulder and he put his filthy face in Harry’s neck as Harry rubbed his back gently.

He stayed as long as he was able, but the mummers’ shows were one after another and after the mummers, a troupe of dwarves started running around and acting silly, much to his Father’s utter delight. Anything that mocked Tywin Lannister these days amused him greatly and he said loudly that he had found a job for Lannister’s bane, to much sycophantic laughter from those who had heard him. The boy would only be eight years old and he was mocked from one end of the Seven Kingdoms to the other. Harry felt badly for the boy who he still had yet to meet. Tywin Lannister refused to take the boy anywhere and he stayed in Casterly Rock, hidden away like a secret mistress.

After the dwarves came singers and musicians and Harry almost planted his face into the table when he accidentally nodded off.

 

“Are you okay?” Rhaegar asked worriedly as he held him around the chest. No less than three Kingsguard members had moved as he’d fallen forward a little and he now had the attention of all six members of the Kingsguard who had travelled here with them.

 

“I’m alright, but I think the journey here took it out of me. I need to lie down.” He said. “I feel a little faint and dizzy. Please excuse me.”

 

Harry stood during the applause for one singer and he left with Ser Oswell and Prince Lewyn, who had to support him upright as he was very wobbly on his feet. He was led to a very spacious room that held a huge bed bundled with blankets and furs and a solid cradle for Rhaegon, also bedecked with blankets and furs.

 

“Thank you, Ser.” He said tiredly, even as he listed to the side.

 

Prince Lewyn caught him again and with a sigh, he took Rhaegon from him and shimmied Harry to the bed and got him sitting down before he tucked up the youngest Prince in the cradle.

 

“I’ve got him from here, brother. You might be needed to show more guests around this monstrosity. I will not be leaving this room.”

 

Ser Oswell inclined his head and left the large bedroom and then Prince Lewyn rounded on him.

 

“What is wrong?” He demanded as soon as the heavy wooden door had been closed after Ser Oswell’s departure.

 

Harry shook his head. “I have a feeling that I’m pregnant, Ser.” He said as he lay back on the soft downy feather bed and rested. “I feel awful.”

 

“You were bad on the road, Rhaegar was telling everyone that it was because Rhaegon was off of his food and you were worried, but that wasn’t it, was it? Or not all of it.”

 

Harry shook his head. “I was feeling very sick on the road, but I was also worried because Rhaegon wouldn’t touch anything, so I wasn’t sleeping properly either.”

 

“What makes you think you’re pregnant?”

 

“I suspected that I was before we left, but this only confirms it. I’m about two turns pregnant.”

 

“You knew at a turn pregnant with…” Prince Lewyn cut himself off quickly.

 

Harry smiled bitterly. “With the baby that I lost in captivity. Yes, I did. I knew after only a few weeks that I was pregnant, but I ignored all the signs this time because I’ve been so busy with Rhaegon. I put it off and put it off, but it won’t be pushed to the side any longer. I’m pregnant and I have to be about two turns, because that was the last time that I laid with Rhaegar. It’s difficult to find the time or the privacy to lay with him in Kings Landing.”

 

“I don’t need the details.” Prince Lewyn said quickly. “We’ll have to step up your protection again. Especially here at the tourney.”

 

Harry nodded. “If anyone asks, I told you to be more alert around Rhaegon. With him moving himself more now, he needs it.”

 

Harry yawned and pulled the sheets over himself. Nothing had terrified him, nor filled him with such pride, more than when Rhaegon had first pulled himself to his feet and stood up unaided a turn ago. Since then, his son had been unstoppable and he had taken his first steps and then within a week, he was running around all over the place.

He was climbing, digging through cupboards and drawers, and that was not mentioning the accidents and injuries he was getting from various trips or falls. The Kingsguard were frantic around the infant and none of them liked getting the duty of protecting Prince Rhaegon, because they had the impossible task of trying to prevent falls and injuries and none of them liked explaining to him where the newest bump, bruise or cut had come from, even though he didn’t blame them in the slightest for such minor injuries.

 

“Get some rest, I will stand guard over you both, my Prince.” Prince Lewyn said softly.

 

Harry nodded and he fell asleep easily and without worry. He trusted Prince Lewyn with his life, with the lives of his children. He was safe here, in such capable hands.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Rhaegar was, of course, thrilled by the news that Harry was expecting another baby when Harry told him the very next morning and it buoyed his whole mood. He was strutting around Harrenhal and he was smiling at everyone. He was not his usual morose, melancholic self with the news of his husband’s new pregnancy.

At least he wasn’t his usual morose self until Ser Jaime Lannister bent the knee to their Father and accepted the empty Kingsguard position that had been created with the peaceful death of Ser Harlan Grandison some weeks previous.

 

“He is but a boy!” Rhaegar raged. “He is younger than you are!”

 

“I know.” Harry said yet again, bored of repeating himself, but understanding that Rhaegar needed to vent his frustrations and emotions onto someone.

 

“What is that man even _thinking_?!”

 

“He’s likely only doing it to piss on Tywin Lannister by taking his perfect son, his Heir, from him.” Harry said offhandedly as he tried to get Rhaegon to eat some stew. “Giving the open Kingsguard position to Jaime leaves only Tywin’s dwarf son, Tyrion, to inherit Casterly Rock.”

 

“You’re right.” Rhaegar said softly as he let that sink in for a moment. “I bet that that is the only reason he’s done this! An honourable, noble position, given away for a mere feud! To a fifteen year old boy who is not yet a man and, he is an able knight I grant you, but he is still just a boy and not a very mature or responsible one at that!”

 

Harry sighed. “There is nothing that we can do, Jaime Lannister is now a knight of the Kingsguard and if you feel aggrieved, think of the other white swords, how must they be feeling to lose Ser Harlan and to gain a mere boy that they must needs babysit. At least Father sent him back home to guard Mother and Viserys.”

 

“That’ll be all he’s fit for. What can he teach us? We are his elders.”

 

“Us? Nothing.” Harry replied. “But he has proven his worth in the fight against the Kingswood Brotherhood and he is no craven. It is useless to rant about such things, Rhaegar, what’s done is done and cannot be undone. The Kingsguard serve for life and Lannister is like to outlive us if we all die at a ripe old age in the order of our birth.”

 

Rhaegar sat down beside him and pulled him in close, kissing him soundly.

 

“That position should have gone to someone much more deserving, but I see your point. It is already done now.” He sighed and stroked Rhaegon’s cheek.

 

“Da.” The little boy cooed.

 

Rhaegar kissed him and sat back. “I need wine.”

 

“Lord Whent sent up some Dornish red wines when I asked to take my afternoon meal here.”

 

Harry laid back on the seat with Rhaegon and he lifted his tunic to expose his slightly curved belly. He really should have noticed, but he hadn’t cared about the little belly that he was growing after his starvation during his captivity. He had been so sick that morning that he hadn’t felt well enough to get up out of bed until half an hour ago. He had missed the first day of the jousting and so had Rhaegar, who had stayed with him.

 

“Ma. Fish.”

 

“You’ve had enough fish.” Harry told him with an adoring smile, but he contradicted himself by reaching forward and picking up a small chunk of fish and popping it into Rhaegon’s open, pleading mouth.

 

Rhaegar sat back down with a goblet of wine and he sighed, relaxing himself as he stroked Rhaegon’s back as their son asked for more food.

 

“Berry!”

 

Harry picked up the few berries that were left and he let Rhaegon pick which ones he wanted to eat as he lay back and rubbed his churning belly.

 

“Oh, I feel unwell.” He complained with a groan.

 

“You seem to be much worse this time around.” Rhaegar said worriedly.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Every pregnancy is different. I had Mother’s sickness with Rhaegon, I didn’t really have it with our lost one, but this one is much worse. I suppose it was too much to ask to have another pregnancy with no sickness.” He smiled, but it was shallow. He didn’t like thinking or speaking of his lost little one.

 

Rhaegar kissed him and then turned to Rhaegon, who was playing with the fine glass bowl his berries had been in.

 

“Don’t you break that.” Rhaegar said seriously.

 

“Da, no.” Rhaegon said.

 

“No. No breaking the bowl.” He repeated sternly.

 

Rhaegon looked at the bowl in his hands and then he handed it to his Father and Harry smiled adoringly. Rhaegar put the bowl back on the table and he hefted their son onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

Rhaegon screeched in delight and he kicked and wriggled. Harry laughed at them both and rubbed his belly.

 

“I need a walk, are you going to come or stay here with Rhaegon?” Harry asked.

 

“Will you be okay?” Rhaegar asked. “I’m not comfortable with you going anywhere alone and all of the Kingsguard are in the Hall of the Hundred Hearths with Father.”

 

Harry snorted. “It only has thirty-five, I counted them.”

 

Rhaegar laughed. “I did too, likely everyone who visits counts them, but still, thirty-five hearths is immense.”

 

“It feels like the belly of a dragon when they’re all lit.” Harry complained.

 

Rhaegar laughed loudly and Rhaegon looked at him, before joining in loudly. Harry couldn’t help but laugh and he shook his head. He stood up and kissed Rhaegar and then pulled Rhaegon over so that he could kiss his chubby cheek.

 

“I won’t be long. I know where these rooms are now.” He insisted.

 

“Take a dagger.” Rhaegar told him seriously.

 

Harry patted his hip to show Rhaegar that he was already wearing the Valyrian steel dagger that Rhaegar had given him for his sixteenth name day before he left their rooms and he took a breath. He needed some air and he wanted some peace, the only place that he was going to get that was the godswood that no one else ever visited.

He remembered where it was, at twenty acres it was impossible to miss really, and he made it there with no incident. He sat down under the weirwood heart tree and he soaked in the calm, the peace, the magic in the very air. Every godswood felt magical to him and if he sat here for long enough, his fingers would start to tingle, his breath would come faster and it would be harder to breathe as the pressure built up in his chest. He’d only told Rhaegar of this phenomena, but his brother, no matter how long he sat with him, did not feel the same sensations.

Harry sat in the godswood of Harrenhal for hours, panting heavily from the pressure, his fingers tingling so much that he was digging them into the soft earth to control the tremble and his whole body was going hot. Hot like he was on fire. He was determined to sit through this group of sensations, to see what came of it, if anything, as he reacted so much more strongly in this godswood than any other he’d been in. This was the longest that he’d ever sat undisturbed in a godswood before, his overnight stays back at Kings Landing didn’t count as he’d always had a member of the Kingsguard with him all night, distracting him, not to mention that the sensations were stronger now that he was an adult, and the pressure, the sensations, were growing higher and higher, his gut clenched harder and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he laboured to suck in a single breath and from one moment to the next, the pressure burst suddenly and he screamed silently, too breathless, too overwhelmed by the explosion of sensations to make a single sound and very soon, all the pressure was gone, drained out of him. The hot feeling, the tingling at his fingertips was gone and so too was the breathless feeling. All of it was gone, but when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by flowers and blooms that had not been there a moment before. Small saplings had had a hundred years of growth in a single moment, now thick, tall and strong, wilting flowers were vibrant and in the peak of their bloom again and the earth he had dug his fingers into was suddenly alive with insects, worms, moss and fungi.

He laughed breathlessly and he looked at his hands with wonder. Was this what the prophecy had been referring to? Was he the Prince who was promised for this reason? This pressure? This wondrous event that had caused this godswood to bloom into sudden life in such a way?

He needed to tell Rhaegar about this, but first, he needed to know how far the explosion of pressure had gone. He stood and he walked around the godswood, looking for the new blooms, all the wilted flowers that had come back to life, the small saplings that were now huge, ancient trees and everywhere he looked in the godswood his favourite flower, red dragon’s breath, that hadn’t been growing in this godswood before today, was in full bloom and covered everything in sight. It had to be an omen from the gods, the dragons were growing stronger.

He reached a section of the godswood where a clear line showed…behind him was a beautiful, blooming garden of flowers and trees, in front was a dim, dark mass of wilting flowers, small saplings struggling to grow and earth that was still and dark with no bugs or life moving over it. It was a stunning visual representation of what he had done…the explosion of pressure had travelled over an acre, perhaps an acre and a half, from the heart tree he had been sat under. He needed to bring Rhaegar here to see it. It was wondrous. It made him think though, as his mind travelled, as it so often did, to his dragon eggs, if he could do this to a godswood, then what else could he do and would it help his unhatched children at all? 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Barristan was drawn into a complete, castle wide search of the immense Harrenhal when Prince Rhaegar came down into the Hall of a Hundred Hearths with Prince Rhaegon for supper. He looked around and he actually bit his lip and it was then that Barristan knew that something was very wrong, before Prince Rhaegar even opened his mouth. Prince Rhaegar never showed such visible signs of nervousness in such a public place.

 

“Has anyone seen Haradarian?” He asked concernedly.

 

“He was in his room, my Prince.” Prince Lewyn told him.

 

Rhaegar shook his head. “I was with him all morning, at midday he told me that he was going for a short walk. He didn’t come back.”

 

“Find him.” King Aerys commanded them and the Kingsguard were gone immediately, every single one of them, looking all over the monumental castle that was Harrenhal for one small, missing man.

 

They met up in the main courtyard an hour later and each one shook their heads.

 

“He’s not in Kingspyre or Widow’s Tower.” Ser Oswell panted.

 

“Nor the Wailing Tower.”

 

“He’s not in the Tower of Dread.”

 

“He’s not in the Tower of Ghosts or the ruined sept.”

 

“He’s not back in his rooms and I’ve checked the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.” Barristan said.

 

“Where haven’t we looked?” The Lord Commander, Gerold Hightower, asked Ser Oswell.

 

Barristan thought hard and he made an exclamation as a sudden thought came to him.

 

“Has anyone checked the godswood?” He asked. “Prince Haradarian’s favourite place has always been a godswood.”

 

“Seven hells, of course that’s where he’ll be!” Ser Arthur hissed and he stomped off towards the godswood. “I’ll bet he’s fast asleep under the heart tree!”

 

Barristan followed with his five other sworn brothers and they made it to the dark, eerily silent godswood. They had to follow Ser Oswell from there, as this massive, untouched godswood was twenty acres and it was very easy to get lost in it. They’d been walking for near ten minutes when they came to a stop when Ser Oswell stopped suddenly.

 

“It’s changed.” Ser Oswell said confusedly.

 

“Changed how?” Gerold Hightower asked.

 

“It’s different. I came here yesterday and somehow, overnight, it’s changed. There are trees here that were not here yesterday, all of these flowers were wilting yesterday and Dragon’s breath has never grown here, look. It’s everywhere and in full bloom.”

 

“Dragon’s breath is Haradarian’s favourite flower.” Barristan said as he looked at the bright red flowers that were everywhere, covering everything.

 

He looked behind him to the dark, drab, half dead forest they had been walking through, then turned back to face forwards and it was brighter, more alive and it was almost a visible line between the two halves of the godswood.

 

“I think I’m lost.” Ser Oswell said as he turned around, looking in every direction. “None of this is familiar to me anymore. I don’t know what’s happened, what magic is this?”

 

“Prince Haradarian?” Prince Lewyn called out loudly, his voice echoing strangely through the eerily silent trees.

 

“Yes?” Came a voice from a little way off.

 

“Oh, thank the gods.” Ser Gerold sighed.

 

Barristan strode off towards the voice and he came out of the trees to a small clearing which held the vicious looking weirwood heart tree, and there, lying on his back in the crawling earth of the clearing, was Prince Haradarian. He was spread eagled, his arms and legs spread to their fullest extent, but he was smiling that amazingly bright smile that had been absent in recent years. He was beaming almost from ear to ear, looking up at them with his eyes laughing at them.

He rolled over onto his belly, right there in the dirt and he laughed at their faces.

 

“To what do I owe the visit of all six of you?” He asked innocently.

 

“It is time to sup.” Ser Gerold told the seventeen year old. “Your brother, Prince Rhaegar, was very worried.”

 

“It’s that late?” Haradarian asked in surprise. “I said that I was only going for a short walk, he must be frantic. I do apologise, I really did lose track of the time, the trees obscure the sky and I couldn’t see the sun to determine what time it was.”

 

“Come along, my Prince.” Ser Arthur said, stepping forward and holding out his hands.

 

Prince Haradarian was carefully hauled to his feet and he brushed himself off from the soft, dry soil and the bugs that were clinging to his clothing and hair. He all but beamed at them, like the small, sweet boy that he had once been, before the Defiance of Duskendale. Not one of them mentioned his almost boyish mood or the changes to the godswood, it wasn’t their place to question their Prince of such things.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ser Jonothor asked instead.

 

“I feel wonderful. I needed this moment of peace and quiet. I feel rejuvenated and energised. The small nap helped too.”

 

“Please tell me that you didn’t fall asleep here, alone and with no protection.”

 

“Um…oops.” Harry looked contrite for all of a moment, before he laughed, almost his old laughing giggle from when he was a small boy and it lightened Barristan’s heart to hear it. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he escorted the seventeen year old back to the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.

 

“You must be more careful!” Ser Arthur chastised the Prince and Haradarian nodded.

 

“Of course, Ser. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. It was just so peaceful and it reminded me of Kings Landing, sleeping under the stars while Rhaegar was away at the ruins of Summerhall. I do have my dagger on me though, I wasn’t entirely unprotected.”

 

Haradarian took a deep breath and he giggled again and spun around on the spot.

 

“Have you been drinking?” Ser Oswell asked. “Those Dornish reds are particularly strong.”

 

“No, I haven’t touched a drop of it. Rhaegar was the one drinking those red wines. Wine gives me a headache and with Rhaegon that’s the last thing that you want. So it’s not always the best idea to drink anything.”

 

They made it back to the Hall of a Hundred Hearths and Barristan saw Rhaegar visibly deflate in relief. Haradarian sat beside his brother and picked up his son and snuggled him tightly, kissing all over his chubby face, making the boy screech and giggle in laughter.

Barristan smiled as he took up his position behind the top table and the four members of the royal family under his care. His heart had sunk when he’d thought that the young Prince was lost and finding him was such a relief. He loved the young Prince, so much, but with how the two oldest Princes were acting with one another, and with the youngest Prince, Rhaegon, too, he knew that something was going on. He merely didn’t know what it was just yet.

 

“Da!” Little Rhaegon called out, but instead of reaching for Haradarian, he instead showed the mashed food in his hand to Rhaegar.

 

Something was definitely going on with his two favourite Princes and it involved the young Prince Rhaegon as well. He’d had the feeling that they were lying, or hiding something at least, for a long while now, but by the Seven, he just couldn’t figure out what it was or reason out what it could possibly be about or why they would do as such. He would hope that they knew that they could come to him if they needed to. He wanted them to know that he loved them more than anyone else in this world, that they could trust him. He wanted them to come to him, but he had had the feeling that they were hiding something, or doing something that they shouldn’t be, for a few years now, and they hadn’t approached him, or to his knowledge, anyone else either.

He hoped that whatever they were doing wasn’t dangerous, as he had a horrible feeling that it was something to do with the fabled hoard of dragon eggs on Dragonstone. They sailed to Dragonstone often, they were on that little island for years at a time, Rhaegar more often than Haradarian, but recently, Haradarian had spent two years on the small island too, despite the trip to Volantis and his distraction with his late wife and son.

But the two had been researching dragon eggs for years, he knew that much, and for ways to hatch them, and if they could be believed, then they were practicing ways in which to hatch dragon eggs. Most of the untimely Targaryen deaths over the decades had been from fire, or the direct result of some other folly, while trying to hatch dragon eggs and he couldn’t see these two fine, intelligent young men go the same way as their ancestors who had died trying to hatch dragon eggs.

He wished that they would tell him what they were up to, even if he was just there to guard them or look out for other dangers while they tried their various ideas on how to hatch dragon eggs. He wanted to protect them and keep them safe, always, but he couldn’t do as such if they didn’t trust him or talk to him. He sighed and prayed to the Seven to keep them safe and he prayed that whatever they were doing, it didn’t lead to their injury or death.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

The next morning, Harry was sat in the stands with Rhaegon stood in front of him, safely between his legs, holding onto the rail with his chubby hands and gnawing on it with his new teeth as they watched Rhaegar mount up on his horse.

 

“Da!” Rhaegon called out, reaching out for Rhaegar.

 

“Why does he call Rhaegar Father?” King Aerys demanded as he heard Rhaegon call out.

 

“I was a captive for a full turn, Father and I was unconscious for a further week after. I was away from him for a long time and Mother told me that Rhaegar cared for his every need daily during that time. He’s going to be a little confused for a time. I don’t mind him calling Rhaegar ‘Da’ because actually, Rhaegar is acting like his Father. Since I lost Malana, I became Mother and Father to him, but Rhaegar has been there for the both of us every single day, of course that’s going to confuse Rhaegon. He’s called the both of us ‘Da’, he’s called the both of us ‘Ma’ and he even called Viserys ‘Da’ the day that we left Kings Landing. I will correct him when I believe that he’s old enough to genuinely understand what he’s saying, until then, he can call me, or anyone else, what he likes.”

 

Harry hefted his heavy son up, so that his head popped over the railing and he screeched happily, lifting a hand to wave at Rhaegar, who laughed and waved back. Gods how Harry loved him, the both of them, he thought as he kissed the back of Rhaegon’s head. His son would need a haircut soon, his hair was as wild and untameable as his own and it needed to be kept short to have any hope of looking neat.

Harry cheered happily for Rhaegar as he jousted like a champion. He’d been so upset that he’d missed the tourney at Storm’s End because he loved watching Rhaegar joust and he loved cheering him on, but he’d been in the Citadel at the time, in self forced exile. Though Rhaegar had given him a blow by blow account of every joust he’d participated in over several ravens, it just wasn’t the same as watching and cheering him on in person.

A mystery knight entered the lists that day, such a short knight that Harry wondered if it was but a child, such as Ser Barristan Selmy, who had been so bold that he had entered the jousting as a mere boy of ten and Prince Duncan, who had given him the epithet ‘the Bold’ had jousted with him when no one else would. Ser Barristan had unhorsed Prince Duncan, and the Prince’s namesake, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Duncan the Tall, six years later and won his knighthood from King Aegon the fifth himself. But this knight was clad in such ill-fitting armour that Harry was almost sure that it was a jape, but the knight, with a weirwood heart tree upon their shield, challenged three champions and won every joust. The Knight of the Smiling Tree did not even try to challenge Ser Oswell Whent nor Rhaegar.

At supper that night, and afterwards too, Rhaegar was so intrigued by the mystery knight that it was all he could talk about. Harry indulged him with a smile as they both bathed Rhaegon, and themselves, in a huge stone bath in Harrenhal’s bathhouse, a massive, low-ceilinged room filled with stone tubs that could each hold six or seven people in a likeness of the bathhouses of the free cities in Essos.

They were both naked in the same bath with Rhaegon, but they couldn’t do anything about their desires as they were being watched over by Ser Barristan and the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold, who were stood, on guard, to either side of the single doorway that led into the room.

 

“Who do you think it could be?” Rhaegar asked him like an excited child and Harry smiled indulgently at him.

 

“From the size alone, I would suggest a squire boy, someone not yet a man, they were very short. The real question, however, is whose squire is that good at jousting…enough to knock off three noblemen who had earned their champion’s position from the four Whent brothers, but not skilled enough, or not confident enough, to take on Ser Oswell or yourself.”

 

“Their gait was very strange.” Rhaegar said quickly, wanting to share his thoughts with him. “If I had to put money on it, I would have said a woman.”

 

“Really?” Harry asked in surprise, even as he mentally reviewed the instances where he’d seen the mystery knight walking. “That changes things then. Not a squire, not a commoner either. She’d be high born to know how to ride that well and to have even a chance at jousting with rings.”

 

“If you had to put money on it?” Rhaegar asked as he took a bar of soap to Rhaegon’s back, much to their son’s delight as his Father soaped him up with his large hands.

 

Harry thought about it and he chuckled. “Ashara Dayne. If one woman is stubborn enough to unhorse three men, it’s her and she knows how to joust and she knows archery too.”

 

“It sounds like you have a little crush on our visiting Lady Dayne.” Rhaegar teased.

 

Harry forced himself to blush by thinking of the most embarrassing thing that he could imagine and he ducked his head.

 

Rhaegar laughed loudly. “Oh gods, you _do_ have a crush on her!”

 

“Shut up.” Harry snapped, splashing Rhaegar with water.

 

“No, I think it’s wonderful that you have a crush, you should approach her, maybe offer to dance with her too.”

 

“I don’t need courting advice from you.” Harry forced out through gritted teeth. “How many Ladies have you courted in your life? By my count it’s none and _I_ had to broker for your marriage to Princess Elia. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t take your advice.”

 

“Is it because she looks like Malana?” Rhaegar asked him softly, but still loudly enough for their guards to hear, otherwise there would have been no point to their ‘private’ conversation.

 

Harry made a show of swallowing and pulling Rhaegon into him close.

 

“I thought she was Malana when I first saw her.” He said quietly. “I almost ran up to her and embraced her and for the first day, I had to keep catching myself as I kept calling her Malana. I’ve never felt so confused in my entire life, Rhaegar. It was so painful to see her, to speak to her at first, but I do like Lady Ashara for who she is, she’s nothing like Malana in personality, so now that I know her, I can see the differences between the two of them, but they look so similar.”

 

“It’s alright. I think the Lady Ashara is a beautiful, wonderful woman. She’s kind, she loves Rhaegon and if the little glances she’s been giving you are any indication, then I think she may feel the same way.”

 

“Do you think it’s too soon? I don’t want to dishonour either Ladies.”

 

“Well, how do you feel, Haradarian? If you feel like it’s time, then it’s time. Rhaegon will be celebrating his first name day in a few short weeks, I would think that that would be plenty of time, brother. Malana would have wanted you and her son to be happy.”

 

Harry nodded. “I’ll speak to her a little more and see if she’s really as nice as she appears on the surface, but her kindness to Rhaegon is what drew my attention after her appearance. She adores him and frankly, he adores Lady Ashara and Princess Elia too.”

 

Harry kissed Rhaegon’s little mouth and his small son screeched and squeezed Harry’s face as he kissed back. It made Harry laugh.

 

“Is he all clean? If I stay in this water anymore then I’m like to freeze to death.” Rhaegar complained, making a show of shivering.

 

“Agreed. He’s clean.” Harry insisted and he stood up, stepping out of the massive bath onto the small step ladder below, snatching up a linen cloth to wrap around himself before he got Rhaegon wrapped up and snuggled in his own clean cloth.

 

Rhaegar was dried and dressed within minutes as Harry struggled with a squirming Rhaegon, who didn’t want to get dressed, and he walked over to Harry and held out his arms.

 

“Give him to me.”

 

“No! You are not taking my son and forcing him to listen to your harp playing.” Harry laughed. “He’ll turn out as morose and miserable as you otherwise.”

 

Rhaegar gave him a playful shove. “You’re too happy and bright to allow a bit of moroseness to creep in to his personality. He’s so much like you it’s as if I’m seeing you as a babe all over again. Except for the purple eyes of course.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and passed Rhaegon over to Rhaegar and ignored his brother’s chuckle of victory. Rhaegar walked off with a naked Rhaegon still wrapped in a linen cloth, the Lord Commander following, leaving Harry to dry and dress himself properly under the watchful gaze of Ser Barristan Selmy.

He yawned widely and he sort of slumped.

 

“I swear I’m too old for all this tourney rubbish.” He groaned. “Rhaegar’s excitement just makes me exhausted. He better not injure himself or I’ll give him a word or two.”

 

“To your bed chambers, my Prince?” Ser Barristan asked him, smiling at him fondly.

 

“Yes, Ser. I need to crawl into my bed and stay there. If Rhaegar want’s Rhaegon so badly then he can have him overnight and see how much he likes him then.”

 

Ser Barristan laughed. “Is Rhaegon sleeping through the night now, my Prince?”

 

“It’s hit and miss still. On some nights he’ll sleep right through, on others he’ll wake up every other hour and squawk until someone picks him up. He was particularly unsettled on the road here. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t sleep. He drove me insane with worry.”

 

“I remember.” Ser Barristan nodded. “I was on duty outside of your tent in the early morning one day and you were still awake and he was crying and refusing to feed or sleep.”

 

Harry sighed. “Perhaps I should have stayed home in Kings Landing with him, but Rhaegar wanted me to see him joust as I missed the tourney in Storm’s End and I just didn’t realise that he’d be this unsettled.”

 

“It is a learning curve, my Prince.” Ser Barristan told him gently. “He is your first child, you’re still learning so try not to be so hard on yourself.”

 

Harry nodded and he sighed again. “Does it make me a bad parent that I’m glad that Rhaegar has taken him? I just…I need a full night’s sleep, but Rhaegar is jousting tomorrow, he can’t joust while tired.”

 

“If…if you are agreeable, my Prince, perhaps I and my sworn brothers could watch over him for one night, if I don’t speak out of turn, of course. He’d be well protected with six of us watching over him.”

 

“Would you?” Harry asked with a grin. “Oh, that would be perfect. If only Mother were here, but I’m sure the six of you can look after one baby overnight.”

 

If they couldn’t, then he would find great amusement in seeing their tired demeanours tomorrow morning when they handed Rhaegon back to him.

They detoured to Rhaegar’s room and found him just finishing off a song on his harp, Rhaegon was fast asleep in the centre of the big bed, dressed in fresh smallclothes and a loose sleeping tunic.

 

“Look, Ser. Rhaegar has done the hard work for you.” Harry laughed.

 

“Pardon?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Ser Barristan has graciously agreed for him and his brothers to watch over Rhaegon tonight, so that we can both get a full night’s sleep.”

 

“That’s very gracious of you, Ser. I was going to take him tonight, but I don’t mind as I’m jousting on the morrow.” Rhaegar said as he scooped up the babe and handed him right over.

 

Ser Barristan looked like he was already regretting his offer, but he stood by it as he nodded to them both and he, and the Lord Commander, left the bed chamber to take Rhaegon to their own chambers, where the six white cloaks were sleeping, just at the end of the corridor.

Harry laughed once they were gone and he went and bolted the door, giving a coy look to Rhaegar.

 

“It seems that we’ve gotten rid of the baby, and our overseers, for a night.” He grinned.

 

Rhaegar’s face lit up and he took the few strides to him and lifted him up into his arms.

 

“It seems that we have. To bed then, brother, if I am to have just one night with you, then I am going to make the most of it.” Rhaegar told him with burning eyes.

 

Harry chuckled and wrapped himself around Rhaegar, kissing him hard, trying not to breathe so that he didn’t have to break away from Rhaegar’s mouth.

He startled and flailed about, throwing his arms and legs snapping out to catch himself, when he was tipped backwards, but his back met the soft, downy feather mattress and Rhaegar chuckled at him, his purple eyes wide and bright with lust and laughter.

 

“A bit of warning next time, my love.” Harry said sternly.

 

“I would _never_ drop you from my arms, my love. Not unless I knew that you would have a soft landing, especially while you’re pregnant with my babe.”

 

Harry smiled and reached up to pull Rhaegar down to him and into another kiss.

 

“Enough talking.” He panted. “We’ve gotten rid of the baby!” He reiterated seriously. “Do you not know how rare an occurrence that is, Rhaegar? We’re free for a whole night! Shut up and fuck me.”

 

Rhaegar didn’t answer, he just swooped in and kissed him hard, his hands finding the lacing of Harry’s breeches and tugging them open without stopping his kissing. As soon as they were open, they were tugged off and Rhaegar did pull back then, to ease them from Harry’s legs.

He bent down and started kissing his legs, starting from the top of his foot and marking a path upwards with his lips.

Harry’s breath came faster with anticipation and he make a soft sound as Rhaegar reached his sensitive inner thighs. His brother-husband paid special attention to this area and he held both of Harry’s legs in each hand and he turned his head to nibble at the opposite inner thigh.

 

“Oh.” Harry moaned softly at the new sensation and he clenched his hands into fists, where he had them resting on either side of his head.

 

“I love it when you make that noise for me.” Rhaegar told him, his voice deeper, huskier.

 

“I just love the things you do to me.” Harry said happily as he looked down into Rhaegar’s beautiful face and got eye contact with him.

 

Rhaegar smirked back at him and then lowered his mouth back down to kiss a long line across his skin while still watching him for his reaction.

Harry relaxed back down and moaned softly, humming gently.

 

“That feels so good.” He said.

 

Rhaegar did it again to the other leg and Harry’s breathing picked up, his chest rising and falling quicker, more so when Rhaegar moved up his leg with little kisses, right to his groin.

Without warning Rhaegar swallowed Harry’s cock all the way down and Harry almost shot off the bed with a shriek, falling back with a loud moan as Rhaegar sucked on him, twisting his fingers through Rhaegar’s silver hair and tugging on it hard.

Harry was rocking his hips gently, easing himself in and out of Rhaegar’s mouth while his brother sucked on him, remaining still, allowing Harry to push in and pull out of his mouth as he liked. The trust of the action was not lost on him and he moaned as he hardened further.

A finger pressed into him, and not expecting it, and unused to such a quick succession of pleasurable events, Harry gasped loudly and pushed into Rhaegar’s mouth hard, the head of himself going down Rhaegar’s throat and choking him for a moment before Harry pulled back.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly as Rhaegar sucked in an extra deep breath once his throat was clear.

 

Rhaegar chuckled deeply, darkly. “Your eyes rolled back when you pushed into my throat.” Was all he said and Harry’s breath caught at the words.

 

Rhaegar sat back and started moving his finger inside Harry’s body.

 

“You’re so impatient tonight.” Harry said, his chest heaving with sensation that was bringing his breath faster.

 

“I’m jousting on the morrow, I need _some_ sleep.” Rhaegar chuckled. “But I’d never want to miss a night to ravish you. So I’m compromising, I’ll fuck you nice and quick and then go right off to sleep.”

 

Harry laughed happily and reached out to drag Rhaegar’s head to his own for a kiss, using his hair as a handle.

A second finger pushing into his body had him breaking their kiss to throw his head back onto his pillow with a gasp, his hips rocking reflexively to the added pleasure and he groaned happily.

 

“You’re driving me mad!” He accused breathlessly.

 

“Oh?” Rhaegar questioned curiously as he stabbed his fingers into Harry’s body quickly, all but thrusting them as he would his cock when fucking him. He caught that one spot within him on the next push and Harry’s back bowed from the bed.

 

“Fuck.” Rhaegar cursed as he pulled his fingers free and moved over him, grappling for the glass bottle of oil he always kept near his bed for such an occasion and he splashed some onto his cock, smearing it over with his hand with gritted teeth.

 

“A little wound up, my love?” Harry teased, panting as he came down from the high of having that spot touched.

 

Rhaegar laughed deeply. “You always wind me up, even when you don’t mean to. I can’t wait until I can touch you in public, when they all know that you’re mine.”

 

Rhaegar touched the head of himself to the entrance to Harry’s body gently, rubbing for a moment to transfer the oil to Harry’s skin, before he settled himself and shuffled forward on his knees. Harry took a deep breath in preparation and he relaxed himself. He was more than ready for the big push, when the pressure of his husband pushing against him became too much and his body gave way and Rhaegar breached him.

They both held still for several moments, before Rhaegar continued his movement and settled himself as deeply as he could into his body. Harry wrapped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck, his legs around his back, and he nuzzled along Rhaegar’s throat and jaw, tipping his head back to get a kiss that was freely given.

 

“I love you more than I could ever express.” Rhaegar told him, moving one hand to brush a tuft of hair out of Harry’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know, I think you’re doing a wonderful job of expressing your love at the moment.” Harry laughed breathlessly as he wriggled on Rhaegar.

 

His husband groaned deeply and pulled on his hips as he shoved upwards, trying to reach further into him than he ever had before.

 

“Fuck.” He cursed again, lowering his head to rest his forehead on Harry’s. “You do wicked things to me.”

 

“It’s your cock in my arse, let’s not talk about whose doing wicked things to the other, brother.”

 

Rhaegar laughed lightly. He propped himself back up on his arms, so that he was looking down upon him and he moved his hips back, pulling himself out of Harry before slowly easing himself back into him.

Harry moaned happily and rocked his own hips, encouraging Rhaegar to move quicker. It worked as the next thrust came faster and harder, the one that followed was rougher and then Rhaegar lost all restrictions and he drove the breath from Harry’s lungs.

 

“Please.” He begged as he tightened his muscles on Rhaegar as much as he could, watching as Rhaegar screwed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth.

 

“Fuck, you know just how to rile me up!” Rhaegar snarled as he gripped both of his hips and pulled Harry down as he thrust upwards, rubbing across that spot inside him and all Harry could do in response was moan and make mewling noises as everything bar the pleasure was driven from his mind.

 

He moved his legs higher, clamping them around Rhaegar’s lower back and he used them to encourage Rhaegar to move harder and faster, thrusting his hips up as Rhaegar thrust his own down, making their joining harder and rougher.

Harry’s orgasm built quickly and as Rhaegar caught that spot inside him again, he screamed his release. His brother-husband quickly cut him off with his hand, muffling the scream, even as he clenched his own jaw to prevent his own yell, instead Rhaegar only grunted as he wetted the inside of Harry’s body with his seed. Rhaegar’s body relaxed and he fell down to the side of him and pulled him in close, kissing his head.

 

“You’re loud.” Rhaegar complained with a smile.

 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be as proficient a lover.” Harry told him.

 

Rhaegar laughed and cuddled him tighter, as they both calmed down and caught their breaths, making themselves more comfortable as they settled down for the night…or at least they were settled down until there was a loud, sharp knock on the door.

 

“My Prince, a passing servant heard a yell from your room, are you well?” Came the tense, unmistakable voice of Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander.

 

“I stood on a fucking brooch.” Rhaegar exclaimed furiously. “Rhaegon must have knocked it off before I bedded him down.”

 

“Is Prince Haradarian with you?”

 

“He is.” Rhaegar answered surely, with no hint that there was anything wrong with having his brother staying in his room. “He had a dizzy spell again and he is to stay here with me. He is already fast asleep.”

 

“Does he need medicine, water?”

 

“No, Ser. He is sleeping.” Rhaegar replied as he smiled at Harry and held him close. “I am just glad that my yelling did not wake him up.”

 

“I shall leave you be.” Ser Gerold dismissed himself and Rhaegar kissed Harry and pulled him in closer, laying a heavy hand on his swollen, curved belly.

 

Harry sighed happily and cuddled in closer.

 

“I love you.” He said sleepily. “Make sure you keep that brooch safe. Its Valyrian steel, I want it.”

 

“You already have a dozen Valyrian steel brooches.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“I want as many as I can lay my hands on.” Harry insisted.

 

“You’ve been collecting Valyrian steel for years, you’re obsessed with it.”

 

“I like the ripple of the steel, the dark nature of it. I need more.” Harry said simply.

 

Rhaegar chuckled and cuddled in tightly to him, still covering his belly protectively. “I’ll buy you more. I’ll buy you whatever you want, my love.”

 

“Right now I want to sleep off that fantastic orgasm, my love. Shush.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled again and kissed his head, stroking his belly slowly and rhythmically. They lapsed into silence and Harry yawned, eased into sleep by the quiet, the soft touch to his pregnant belly and the sated exhaustion from his orgasm didn’t hurt either. He smiled to himself, even as he yawned again and rolled to put his back to his Husband. Rhaegar moved a moment later, to put his front to Harry’s back, his hand wrapping back around his pregnant belly. Harry fell asleep only minutes after they both stopped moving, happy to have this one night wrapped up in Rhaegar’s arms. He didn’t know when they would get the chance again.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

The end of the tourney was fraught with anger and arguments and Harry wondered if he was truly cursed. The last tourney that he had personally attended in Lannisport for Viserys’ birth had been cut short too, by their Father, because of Tywin Lannister’s gall at asking for Rhaegar or himself to be married to his daughter, Cersei. This tourney had ended happily enough, with Rhaegar finally winning the champion’s tilt against Ser Barristan Selmy, having unhorsed Ser Arthur in the previous round.

Rhaegar had been given a blue, winter rose laurel crown to present to his chosen Queen of Love and Beauty. He had first approached Harry with a massive grin on his face and Harry had baulked as his brother, in his pitch black armour, stopped in front of him on his black stallion dressed in red to match the Targaryen colours.

 

‘If that crown touches my head I’m going to ram it down your throat!’ He’d hissed through clenched teeth.

 

‘But you’re so pretty, baby brother. You deserve to be the Queen of Beauty.’ Rhaegar had teased, much to the amusement of several people sitting close by.

 

‘I mean it, if that comes anywhere near me…’ He trailed off with his threat, but he only breathed easier when, with a joyous laugh, Rhaegar moved away from him.

 

He had slumped back in his chair and cuddled a sleeping Rhaegon closer to his chest. He would have loved to have received the crown from Rhaegar, but there was no way that his reputation would survive such an instance. But at least with their little banter, Rhaegar had effectively told him that he was his true chosen Queen of Love and Beauty, even if Harry did baulk at the idea of being called a Queen, even in jest.

Then Rhaegar had gone and crowned Lady Lyanna Stark as his Queen of Love and Beauty. Harry had sighed heavily at the political implications, but he brushed it off, it was a tourney crown, a small title to be held until the next tourney was held and a new Lady was crowned, nothing more. He hadn’t counted on the pride of Lord Robert Baratheon, however.

He had almost struck Rhaegar at the feast that night, thankfully his friend, the young Eddard Stark, had gripped his friend’s arm and pulled it away from Rhaegar, who, from one blink to the next, was suddenly surrounded and protected by the furious Kingsguard, all with their swords drawn and pointed at Lord Baratheon in a clear warning for him to back away from the crown prince.

Harry had a vague memory of a commotion at the Stark end of the top table the night previous, where Lyanna Stark had poured a cup of wine over her younger brother, Benjen’s, head. He had learnt an hour after that incident that Benjen Stark had been teasing his sister for weeping after Rhaegar had played his harp. No woman could resist Rhaegar, he had thought as much over previous years, but he did hope that Lady Lyanna did not fall into the honey trap just because Rhaegar had given her a tourney crown. It meant little, even less to Rhaegar, who had once again spent the night celebrating finally becoming champion of a tourney by making love to him in his bed while an exhausted Rhaegon slept peacefully beside them in the cradle that Lord Whent had provided for their use.

It had been a mere gesture, he’d said when Harry asked why he had crowned her.

 

‘She was the mystery knight.’ He told Harry.

 

‘Really?’ Harry had asked, very surprised.

 

Rhaegar had nodded. ‘I found her stashing the shield in a tree when Father sent me to unmask the mystery knight. Apparently she saw a squire, a friend of hers or something, being beat upon by the other squires and she wanted to teach the knights a lesson by beating them and then giving their horses back without taking a ransom, giving them only a warning to clout their squires more and to teach them the honour of being a true knight. I was intrigued by her being able to beat three knights and I wanted her to know that I thought she jousted well and that I would keep her secret.’

 

Harry sighed as he hefted Rhaegon up higher as his son squirmed to be put down. He wanted to toddle off and explore his surroundings as the ancient style, seven sided melee took place.

Rhaegar took Rhaegon from him and tipped him upside down, making Rhaegon screech and giggle. Harry smiled, but with his hands free, he could now take a cup of wine from a servant. It was watered down, it being only the afternoon, but it was so refreshing and light that he called for a second cup before he’d finished the first.

He yawned and gave a nudge to Rhaegar when he grinned, all smug, male pride at being the cause of Harry’s tiredness. He fell asleep in his chair without meaning to, only to be woken up when his baby son smacked him hard across the face.

 

“No, Rhaegon!” He heard Rhaegar chastise sternly. “We do _not_ hit those we love!”

 

A moment later Rhaegon was crying and Harry’s head pounded with the beginning of an ache that was going to keep him pained for the rest of the day. He shouldn’t have had that wine.

 

“Pass him here.” He sighed as he reached over and took his son from his Husband, holding the babe on his lap as he cried, making the ache in his head spike painfully.

 

“I’m sorry, I should have been paying closer attention. I was distracted by the melee, I didn’t see him reach over.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“It’s alright, he’s a boisterous boy and he doesn’t like me sleeping.” Harry yawned and sat himself up straight, soothing his babe until his cries trailed off.

 

He wiped Rhaegon’s face and his little nose, then set him on the floor on his feet, between his legs, encouraging him to hold onto the wooden rail. His mouth opened and he bit into it, as Harry had known that he would, his purple eyes watching the seven on seven fighting as he gnawed on the wood.

He sat back and cut a glance to Rhaegar. He smiled and gave a small look to his swelling belly. Rhaegar sat forward, adjusted himself, then sat back. As he sat back his hand fleetingly pressed against the curve of his belly and Harry couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face.

He turned in his chair and looked for the Lady Ashara, the woman he was going to marry in a few more moon turns. He caught her eyes and she smiled at him, he winked at her and they both laughed, which startled the Ladies sat around the Lady Ashara, but as she stood and made her way to him, he gave a look to Rhaegar to let him know that what was to happen next was only a show and he slipped his hand into Rhaegar’s and squeezed gently.

Lady Ashara perched on the arm of his chair and he wrapped his free arm around her, acting as if they were already intimately acquainted and they both watched the melee. Rhaegon, who looked like he could be their true born son, was stood in front of them. He turned to look at them, but the eleven turn old boy thought nothing of their actions as he turned right back around and bit into a new part of the rail, leaving tiny teeth marks where he went.

 

“I do not understand this melee.” Lady Ashara sighed. “Archery, jousting and even axe throwing I can understand, but not this. More men have been injured in this melee than have been all tourney.”

 

“I don’t understand it either.” Harry agreed. “A complete waste of able-bodied men. Jousting is barely tolerable, what with the amount of head and chest injuries, without the broken legs or arms, but this is just a mess. Those two are supposed to be on the same side, but they’re fighting each other.”

 

Lady Ashara looked to where Harry had pointed interestedly and she gave a dainty laugh behind her hand when she saw what he had seen.

 

“You’re right, they’re both wearing stars.” She giggled.

 

“Yet they’re so senseless from taking blows to the head for the last half an hour that they can’t even see it.”

 

“If all of these men aren’t injured in some way then it’ll be a poor melee.” Rhaegar chuckled from beside them. “It has always been said that the melee is for those who don’t have the skill to joust.”

 

“None of these men have the brains to do anything other than charge at each other randomly.” Harry said derisively. “They can’t even recognise who is supposedly on their own side.”

 

Lady Ashara laughed again.

 

“Ma!”

 

Harry looked down, to see Rhaegon had turned around and he was holding his arms up to Ashara.

 

“My Prince?” She asked before she touched him.

 

“Go ahead, before he has a screaming fit.” Harry chuckled.

 

Lady Ashara picked up the boy and he snuggled into her ample chest. His eyes drooped and he yawned, within moments he was asleep, his arms locked around Lady Ashara’s neck and his knees tucked up as she supported his bottom with her arm.

 

“Looks like he’s found another person to use as his own personal pillow.” Harry chuckled.

 

“I don’t mind. By the gods, he’s so beautiful though.”

 

“He is.” Harry smiled happily as he looked into Rhaegon’s sleeping face. “He’s growing so fast.”

 

“He is, I still remember first seeing him, when you first brought him to Starfall five turns ago. He was so tiny, but the way he ate those berries off of that spoon.” She giggled. “I have never seen such a young babe doing as such.”

 

“Would you accompany me to a quieter place?” He asked as a yell from the fighters caused a spike of pain in his temple, he really shouldn’t have had that wine. “I find this melee is taking too long and it is tiresome. I have grown bored of it.”

 

“Of course, my Prince.”

 

“Harry, please.” He insisted.

 

Ashara smiled at him and stood with Rhaegon still in her arms. Harry stood after her and he gave a smile to Rhaegar. Their ploy was going as planned, they would be much safer soon.

He went to an inner solar with Ashara and her brother Ser Arthur. Once behind closed doors, Harry’s arm fell from her shoulders and they both sat on opposite chairs.

 

“How is the ruse fairing?” Ser Arthur asked them.

 

“I believe that we are adequately fooling the others into believing that Ashara and I are getting closer.”

 

“Closer than close after that display at the melee.” Ser Arthur replied.

 

Harry chuckled. “No one saw Rhaegar’s hand in mine.”

 

“I did.” Ashara smiled. “I have never thought of two men being together in such a way, but you and Rhaegar complement each other in a way that I have never seen before. You know each other so well, enough that he can read your face and know what you’re thinking and you the same. It must be amazing to have such a bond with someone.”

 

“What you say is true, I can look at Rhaegar and know immediately if he is happy, upset or angry, even if he is trying to hide such emotions and masks his expressions. We can communicate silently, through looks or gestures, and we always know what to say or do to cheer up the other. I love him, with everything that I am. I couldn’t imagine a life without him there. I wouldn’t want to live a life without him.”

 

“That is why we, Prince Lewyn and I, are so set on protecting you, Rhaegar and Rhaegon more than anything else.”

 

“Won’t King Aerys notice?” Ashara asked worriedly.

 

Ser Arthur shook his head. “The two older Princes are back in his favour since…” He trailed off and went pale, looking to Harry to see his reaction. Especially after he had blown up at a city watchman for mentioning his captivity not a turn previous.

 

Harry sighed heavily. “Since my captivity he sees a kindred spirit in me, as he was a captive in Duskendale. He adores Rhaegar again because of how he took over and tortured the survivors of the Kingswood Brotherhood and he loves us both because we agreed to burn the captives as a form of execution instead of beheading them as is the usual method of execution.”

 

“Why did you agree to burn them? It’s so…barbaric.”

 

“Ashara, remember your place.” Ser Arthur demanded of his younger sister.

 

“No, she’s correct. I find death by burning very distasteful. It was a tactical decision on both our parts to get us back into our Father’s favour to keep ourselves, and our Rhaegon, safer. I woke up on the morning that Rhaegar burnt the two other prisoners and I told him to have Father burn them to put us back in his favour. It was a calculated decision as we’re safe as long as he favours us. Neither of us have a taste for burning people, I assure you. I was almost sick when I burnt the man who had raped me.”

 

“I didn’t mean to bring any of this up.” Ser Arthur told him gently, laying a comforting hand on Harry’s slim shoulder.

 

He sighed and smiled. “I know. It’s alright, Ser. Rhaegar has helped me through what I believe is the worst of things. My shoulder still aches from time to time, but I am finally fully healed and all those involved have been killed or sent to the wall. It is time to put it behind me and move forward. Not to mean that I want just anyone bringing it up or mentioning it, like city watchmen or the servants, but you are not just anyone, you are a friend.”

 

“Have you had nightmares recently?” Ashara asked gently.

 

Harry shook his head. “No, not any more. I did have a few when I was newly rescued. It was a difficult time and I found it hard to adjust at first, I didn’t like anyone touching me, not even Rhaegar. I was still dirty, hurt and scared in my mind. It took me a while to get over that and to come around to the idea that I was home and not in a crow cage still. I would wake up thinking that I was still a captive and I’d lash out at those nearest to me before I caught up to the fact that I wasn’t a prisoner any longer. It was a terrible time and it took me longer than I would have imagined to recover from it, both mentally and physically.”

 

“I’m glad that you’re home.”

 

“Me too.” Harry smiled.

 

“May I dance with you later?” Ashara asked him.

 

Harry chuckled. “I would enjoy that. Oberyn has been trying to dance with me again.”

 

“He is a lusty pest.” Ashara laughed. “I danced with him on the first night and his hands were everywhere!”

 

“I danced with him in Sunspear and his hands were everywhere.” Harry laughed happily. “You should have seen his face light up when I revealed the true nature of mine and Rhaegar’s marriage. He spent the rest of my stay there trying to get me into his bed. Rhaegar was not pleased when I told him. He won’t leave me alone with Oberyn anymore.” Harry laughed. “You’d think that he doesn’t trust me, but it’s Oberyn and those wandering hands of his that he doesn’t trust. He doesn’t like people touching me.”

 

Lady Ashara and Ser Arthur laughed with him. The door swung open without announcement, but it was only Rhaegar who walked through with Ser Oswell following him.

 

“Are you well?” Harry asked as his Husband looked a little ruffled to Harry’s expert eyes.

 

“Baratheon tried to corner me again, in a privy of all places! You’d think that I’d done him a huge disservice or something.”

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked concernedly as Rhaegar sat next to him.

 

“Perfectly fine. Baratheon didn’t count on Ser Oswell being right around the corner as my shield for the day.” Rhaegar nodded to the brother of the Kingsguard and he sighed. “This is ridiculous, he should be happy that I crowned his betrothed as the Queen of Love and Beauty, it makes her a more desirable match.”

 

“I think it’s more to do with the fact that Lady Lyanna is swooning over you.” Harry replied.

 

“Excuse me?” Rhaegar demanded.

 

Lady Ashara nodded in support of Harry’s words. “Yes, she’s been talking of little else other than your harp playing or that you crowned her as your chosen Queen. She’s reading more into it than there is.”

 

Rhaegar put his face into his hands and rubbed vigorously. “It’s a tourney crown!” He growled. “A tourney title, nothing more! It’s not as if I announced any intentions to marry her, or even bed her! I would never.”

 

“Perhaps she’ll get the message when you and Elia marry.” Harry said kindly.

 

Rhaegar sucked in a deep breath. “She had better. I dislike being unkind to Ladies, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll need to do so. I cannot allow anything dissuade Princess Elia from marrying me. We need the support of Dorne too much.”

 

“Pray tell, why didn’t you crown Princess Elia?” Ser Oswell asked.

 

Harry knew why, but Rhaegar just sighed.

 

“I do not know her very well yet, but I do know that I did not want to embarrass her, she is a very delicate woman and she dislikes attention more than I do. So I just gave it away to the first person that I saw. Elia thanked me afterwards for not crowning her, she didn’t want it or the attention it would have garnered her.”

 

“After you came to me with it!” Harry scowled.

 

“None can deny that you are more beautiful than half the Ladies in the realm.” Rhaegar told him. “You should be the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

 

“You call me a Queen again and I’ll poison you.”

 

“You would never use your lead link to kill me.” Rhaegar said surely.

 

“Kill you? Oh no, dear brother. You misunderstand. Why would I kill you outright? That would be so dissatisfying, not to mention quick, especially when there are milder poisons that are much more fun to play around with, ones that won’t kill you, but will make you very uncomfortable. I have one in particular in mind that will have you shitting brown water for a week. That would serve you right for coming near me with a crown of flowers!”

 

Rhaegar laughed so loudly that he accidentally woke up Rhaegon, who whined sleepily.

 

“Da!” He cried out, having recognised Rhaegar’s voice. “Da.”

 

He twisted around and looked at the people in the room before reaching for Rhaegar. “Da.” He said softer now that he could actually see his Father.

 

Rhaegar took him and sat him on his knee as Rhaegon rubbed at his eyes before peering around with eyes the same colour purple as his Father’s. He lay against Rhaegar’s chest, snuggling in sleepily as he was still tired having been woken up so suddenly. Harry reached out and stroked his soft cheek gently with a smile.

 

“Ma.” Rhaegon said quietly before his body sagged.

 

Rhaegar cuddled him in and cradled him softly in his large arms and it melted Harry’s heart. He placed a hand over his growing belly and he felt the slight curve there. It made him smile.

He shifted closer to Rhaegar under the guise of checking on Rhaegon and he placed his hand over his son’s body.

 

“I still can’t believe that it has been almost a year.” He said quietly.

 

“It certainly has been a hectic year.” Rhaegar chuckled.

 

“But completely worth it.” Harry added with a smile as he curled his hand around Rhaegon’s tiny fist.

 

“Completely worth it.” Rhaegar agreed with him.

 

Harry smiled and he ignored Ser Oswell being present and he rested against Rhaegar, putting him on eye level with Rhaegon, so he could stay where he was and just trace the face of his son, memorise every line and curve. He loved his son so very much and it upset him to think that perhaps right now he would have had another one if he’d carried to seven turns again, as he had done for Rhaegon.

He sighed and pushed that from his mind. He couldn’t keep thinking in such a way or he was going to drive himself mad. He needed to move forward, he couldn’t keep thinking of the babe that he’d lost, he needed to concentrate on Rhaegon, on his new babe forming, not the one that he had cruelly lost thanks to the Kingswood Brotherhood or he’d never be happy again and he had far too much already to just throw it away as he looked upon his beautiful husband, Rhaegar, and their even more beautiful son, Rhaegon. He had far, far too much to just throw it away for a babe who had been taken from him before he’d even had a chance to hold them.

It had been cruel and heart wrenching and it always would be, but he refused to allow it to take away from what he already had, his Rhaegar, his Rhaegon and his new babe forming. That was what was important now, everything else would be pushed behind him. He smiled to himself as Rhaegar shifted and slipped an arm around him under the guise of getting comfortable as Rhaegon fell asleep on his chest. Harry sighed softly and shifted even closer to Rhaegar. Everything was going to be just fine, he had everything that he needed to make him happy right here and he was not going to throw that away, not because of the Brotherhood, not because of anything. It was time to move on and be happy.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This took me a little longer than I thought, mostly because it just kept getting longer as I read it through! Almost 50,000 words in one chapter, utter madness. But this is the longest chapter in this six part fic, thankfully. No more hellish read throughs like this one again!
> 
> The next chapter is not as long as this one, but it is not the shortest chapter either, but again, there are some serious warnings at the beginning of the next chapter too, so be sure to read them first. 
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter, lovelies, please let me know your thoughts on this massive chapter! The next chapter will likely be a week Tuesday/Wednesday now, because this one was late and I need to do the read through for it and though it is shorter than this chapter, which isn't difficult, it's still not something to sniff at, so it still needs some time to get through and four days just isn't going to be enough.
> 
> StarLight Massacre. X  


	4. 282AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Character death, Mpreg, bloody caesarean birth in explicit detail, breastfeeding.  
> Last Time
> 
>  
> 
> Harry smiled and he ignored Ser Oswell being present and he rested against Rhaegar, putting him on eye level with Rhaegon, so he could stay where he was and just trace the face of his son, memorise every line and curve. He loved his son so very much and it upset him to think that perhaps right now he would have had another one if he’d carried to seven turns again, as he had done for Rhaegon.
> 
> He sighed and pushed that from his mind. He couldn’t keep thinking in such a way or he was going to drive himself mad. He needed to move forward, he couldn’t keep thinking of the babe that he’d lost, he needed to concentrate on Rhaegon, on his new babe forming, not the one that he had cruelly lost thanks to the Kingswood Brotherhood or he’d never be happy again and he had far too much already to just throw it away as he looked upon his beautiful husband, Rhaegar, and their even more beautiful son, Rhaegon. He had far, far too much to just throw it away for a babe who had been taken from him before he’d even had a chance to hold them.
> 
> It had been cruel and heart wrenching and it always would be, but he refused to allow it to take away from what he already had, his Rhaegar, his Rhaegon and his new babe forming. That was what was important now, everything else would be pushed behind him. He smiled to himself as Rhaegar shifted and slipped an arm around him under the guise of getting comfortable as Rhaegon fell asleep on his chest. Harry sighed softly and shifted even closer to Rhaegar. Everything was going to be just fine, he had everything that he needed to make him happy right here and he was not going to throw that away, not because of the Brotherhood, not because of anything. It was time to move on and be happy.

 

Chapter Four – 282AC

 

Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark watched as his close friend, the Lord Robert Baratheon, stormed up and down the Great Hall of his ancient family seat of Storm’s End, silently fuming.

This had all started at the tourney of Harrenhal three turns before, when the crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, had given the pale blue, winter rose crown to his sister, and Robert’s betrothed, Lyanna, naming her as his Queen of Love and Beauty. Ever since that moment, Robert had been in an inconsolable rage and now three turns later, at the start of a new year, it was still eating away at him.

Ned had already had to stop Robert from striking the Prince, at the feast marking the end of the jousting just after he had crowned Lyanna. He had learnt later that Robert had tried to confront the Prince a second time at Harrenhal, but had thankfully been stopped by a member of the Kingsguard.

 

“You shouldn’t have stopped me from breaking that perfect nose.” Robert growled at him as he strode from one side of the hall to the other.

 

“You’re no use to anyone dead, Robert.” Ned said. “If you had struck Rhaegar then you would have been lucky to have just lost the hand that you’d hit him with. We both know of the horror stories circling the capital these days. King Aerys is burning people on a whim, if you’d hit his golden son, the heir to the Iron Throne, then he was like to have had you burnt alive as well!”

 

“It would have been worth it!”

 

“No it wouldn’t have.” Ned said, thoroughly frustrated with his hot headed friend, who couldn’t see past the vengeful gratification of hurting Prince Rhaegar. “You need to think things through more, Robert. Trying to do harm to Prince Rhaegar is only going to get you killed. We have to do things properly. We must seek recompense from King Aerys for what his son has done.”

 

“It’s not enough, Ned!” Robert raged. “I want his head!”

 

“You are not like to get it!” Ned snapped back. “You cannot ask the Mad King for his favourite son’s head! You are more like to lose your own!”

 

“I cannot allow this insult to slide. Lyanna is _my_ betrothed! Mine, not his!”

 

Eddard sighed and touched his forehead. He dared not tell Robert that Lyanna was talking of breaking her betrothal to him. So that she was unattached and, in her own words, ready to leave as soon as Prince Rhaegar came for her. 

He, their brother Brandon, and their Father Rickard, had all told her that that was not going to happen. Prince Rhaegar was not going to come for her, they knew it, but Lyanna could not see it. They three had hoped that Rhaegar’s, very lavish, very public, marriage to Princess Elia of Dorne two turns ago, just after the tourney of Harrenhal, would have allayed her desires, but there was no such luck. Lyanna was convinced that Rhaegar Targaryen was in love with her and was going to marry her after she’d overheard part of a conversation at Harrenhal between the two oldest Princes, she swore on the heart tree that she had heard Rhaegar say that he loved another and thus would never love Elia of Dorne and that he wouldn’t have chosen to marry her if he’d had a choice in the matter. Not even the news that Elia was now pregnant with Rhaegar’s first child had stemmed her thoughts or conviction that Rhaegar was going to come for her.

It had not helped matters settle down that, at the weeklong feast celebrating the first name day of Prince Haradarian’s son, Prince Rhaegon, Prince Rhaegar had barely looked at his newly married, newly pregnant wife. Instead he had spent the celebrations entirely with his brother and Nephew, barking at anyone who so much as jostled his younger brother and acting more like a sworn shield than even the most protective of older brothers.

By all accounts coming from those in the capital Prince Haradarian was soft and sweet, easy to laugh and endlessly patient, more a maiden than a knight and Ned had seen that for himself at Harrenhal when the younger Prince had been contented to sit and eat with his baby son rather than take part in the tourney, and particularly with the way that Prince Rhaegar treated him, always hovering over him, fetching things for him or dogging his steps like a sworn shield, but Haradarian was also the most fair and just of the royal family. He had ruled Kings Landing strongly and firmly for six turns, when he was just a boy of two-and-ten when Ned himself didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of running Winterfell alone at eight-and-ten, without having the responsibility of all the Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders, but Prince Haradarian had done such an amazing job that he had earned himself the epithet Haradarian the Heart from those in Kings Landing, which had rapidly spread through the rest of the realm. But more than merely earning an epithet for himself, he had won the respect of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms, including Ned’s own Father, Rickard, who wanted to pass over Prince Rhaegar and give the Iron Throne straight to Haradarian, as the Lord Stark saw him as what was best for the Seven Kingdoms.

Ned had felt the same, until the tourney at Harrenhal and he had met the most beautiful woman in the world. Lady Ashara Dayne. He had danced with her, laughed with her and he had fallen in love with her. Only for it to be announced at the end of the tourney that she was to be married to Prince Haradarian.

He had then noticed what he had been too blinded by his new love to see, how she always looked at Prince Haradarian, how she smiled her best smile just for him, how Haradarian’s infant son, Rhaegon, ran to her and liked to be carried by her, but he had foolishly ignored such signs and fallen for her regardless. He would have had her right there at Harrenhal if not for the maddening fact that she was always with Prince Haradarian, who was always shadowed by a member of the Kingsguard. He now knew that that was because they were betrothed together and his heart had never felt so broken as it had at that moment.

 

“We need to kill them, all of them.” Robert seethed, interrupting Eddard’s brooding.

 

“You speak of treason.” Ned told him tiredly.

 

“Not if we kill them all and supplant them!” Robert said fervently.

 

“Now you really are speaking of treason, Robert. Nothing good can come of this.”

 

“Something needs to be done, Ned!” Robert enthused passionately. “Those Targaryens are all unhinged. How much more of the Mad King’s rein are we to bear? How many more people does he have to burn? Innocent people, Ned! Men, women and even children, all fed to the flames for his sick amusement as his sons cheer him on as they watch!”

 

Ned had no comeback for that and his silence seemed to feed Robert’s desire for war as he started talking about calling in his banners and calling on friends and even those who were not friends of his but were enemies of the Targaryens.

 

“We are speaking of treason, Robert.”

 

“Oh, change the tune, Ned! This is the right thing to do. The Seven Kingdoms have been ruled by the Targaryens for three centuries now, it is time for a change. All of them need to die, every last one of them.”

 

“You are taking about killing babes, Robert!” Ned said angrily. “Prince Haradarian has a year old babe and Elia Martell is pregnant.”

 

“All of them, Ned.” Robert said lowly. “Every last Targaryen so that they can never come back. We do to them as they did to the Darklyns.”

 

“If you go through with that then you will be no better than the Mad King! You are trying to convince me to remove him from the throne because he is burning innocent people, including children, yet you wish to take the throne by killing innocent babes, Robert!”

 

“They’re not innocent, they’re Targaryens! They all have poisoned blood! They all turn out like the Mad King in the end. They all have the blood of Maegor the Cruel, Aerion the Monstrous and Aerys the Mad running through their veins! It has to end, Ned! They have to be stopped.”

 

“We will seek recompense first, so that we are seen to be doing the right thing. If we are refused, then we have to convince a lot of people that our cause is just.”

 

“It is just!”

 

“You are going to kill an entire family and end the Targaryen line, because Prince Rhaegar handed my sister a winter rose crown at a tourney.” Ned reasoned.

 

“Damn it, Ned, you are either with me or against me! Those Targaryens have sat the throne for centuries and what have they brought us? What does the Mad King do for us?”

 

“He is but one man, Robert. The smallfolk aren’t going to be endeared to you if you kill babes and their favourite Princes.”

 

“No, but if I don’t kill them personally…” Robert trailed off suggestively.

 

Eddard nodded. “I’ll speak to my Father and we can convince him to seek recompense from King Aerys, I just hope that it doesn’t end with all of us being burnt alive.”

 

“We are no peasants.” Robert insisted. “I am a Lord, you are the Starks of Winterfell. He can’t burn us.”

 

Ned wasn’t so sure, he didn’t believe that King Aerys was that reasonable or just, madmen rarely cared about such trivial things as nobility or consequences of actions, but it wasn’t his place to answer in his Father’s stead. It was for his Father to accept or deny the action of seeking recompense from King Aerys for the behaviour of his son, Rhaegar.

He still wasn’t happy with the thought of killing babes. Prince Rhaegon was a year old, Elia Martell was pregnant with Prince Rhaegar’s first child and Prince Viserys was only a boy at five years old, soon to be six in just two turns, but he was still a boy who would just be learning how to hold a wooden practice sword.

If he could spare the babes, and the women too, he would not be against killing King Aerys and the Princes Rhaegar and Haradarian, but he didn’t see why the women and the babes had to be killed too, no matter how the adult men around them acted. Robert could argue that they all had bad blood about them, but not every Targaryen had been mad, not all of them had been cruel and only a few of them had been monstrous. They were tempered out by Baelor the Blessed, Baelor Breakspear, Jaehaerys the Wise, Aemon the Dragonknight, Daeron the Good and, if he were truly honest, by Haradarian the Heart.

There were a great deal more wise, just and honourable Targaryens than people cared to remember, because the ones that turned out bad, were so terrible and horrific that they took over people’s minds until they forgot about all the good and focused only on the bad. It was a great deal worse when one of the living royal family were one of the bad ones and doubly so when that family member was the King and that was what was happening as they watched. King Aerys the Mad had the throne and suddenly all anyone could remember was Maegor the Cruel, Aerion the Monstrous and Aegon the Unworthy who was the sire of the bastard Blackfyres and the cause of the rebellion as the Blackfyres tried to take the Iron Throne from the legitimate side of the Targaryen family for themselves.

Ned sighed and touched his forehead. He would rather things didn’t come to a war, that another rebellion, Robert’s rebellion, did not get started. But for all that he could see how a rebellion would bleed the Seven Kingdoms, he could also see that King Aerys was not going to surrender Rhaegar for just punishment of his ill thought actions. He was more like to laugh in their faces and send them on their way, but if they caught him in one of his unreasonable, irrational moments, which by all accounts was getting more and more often of late, then they were like to be hailed as traitors to the crown for saying even one word against Prince Rhaegar and then they would be fed to the flames.

This was not going to end well for any of them and good men would die and all because Prince Rhaegar had handed his sister and Robert’s betrothed, Lyanna Stark, a winter rose crown at a tourney.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry fussed over his, now one year old, babe as Rhaegon giggled and fought against the boots that Harry was trying to put on his feet. At sixteen turns old, Rhaegon was big, loud and very boisterous and he liked kicking.

Harry was seven turns pregnant and he was showing, rather a lot. He was bigger than he’d been with Rhaegon and he had birthed his son at this time sixteen turns ago. He was worried that he would give birth too soon.

Rhaegar had married Elia in a very public, very lavish affair after they’d come back from Harrenhal, the week before Rhaegon had turned a year old. They were playing that Elia was pregnant and had fallen pregnant on her wedding night, but she would only be four turns, he needed to hold on to nine turns, so that Elia could claim seven turns. If he birthed any sooner than that then their farce could come crumbling down and they might very well be caught out.

He was already agitated, as he was marrying Ashara today. He didn’t need to fight with his son on top of that as he got Rhaegon into a very smart doublet of fine wool and warm wool breeches. He left the boots off for now, as Rhaegon really didn’t want to wear them and he was getting exhausted just trying to get them onto his son’s feet. He was seven turns pregnant and he couldn’t be dealing with one of Rhaegon’s fits, he would hand his son, and the new boots, over to Rhaegar to deal with.

He instead attached the tiny cloak, proudly displaying the Targaryen three headed dragon, to the back of Rhaegon’s doublet before he picked up his son and carried him, and the boots, out of his bed chambers and to the royal solar, where he was to break his fast with his family while Ashara’s handmaiden’s got her ready for her wedding day.

 

“You look stressed, darling.” His Mother fretted.

 

“Ashara is a good match, even if she is Dornish.” His Father told him with a scrunched face as if he’d smelled something foul.

 

“It’s not that.” Harry sighed. “Rhaegon won’t wear his new boots. He wants to stay in his socks.”

 

Rhaegar sighed too. “You have enough to do and prepare for today, pass him to me.”

 

Harry happily hefted their son over to his Father and he felt a fleeting touch to his large belly from Rhaegar. He smiled as he passed over the tiny pair of well-made boots.

 

“No, Da.” Rhaegon complained as Rhaegar sat him down on his lap and tried to slide one boot on to a kicking foot.

 

“Wear your boots.” Harry told him sternly.

 

“No!”

 

“You’re wearing those boots.” Harry said, not brooking any argument from Rhaegon, who tried to stare Harry out, then he tried crying and thrashing, but Rhaegar held him firmly and silently through his tantrum. Once he was tired out and still didn’t have his own way he gave in. He sat quiet, sniffling, as his Father pulled on both of the new boots and laced them up.

 

Harry had finished breaking his fast on bread, honey and fruit and he was drinking a cup of water by the time that Rhaegon had had his fit and Rhaegar had laced up both tiny boots.

 

“You look so calm.” His Mother complimented him proudly. “So confident and collected. You wouldn’t think that you were getting married today.”

 

Harry smiled. “What is there to be nervous about, Mother? Ashara is amazing, beautiful and kind. She is a wonderful, perfect woman and I couldn’t have hoped for a better match nor for a better stand-in Mother for Rhaegon. She’s wonderful with him and that was the most important thing to me.”

 

“Are you sure that you don’t want a traditional bedding?” His Mother asked him yet again. She had been trying to coax him into having one ever since he had declared that he wasn’t having one a week before. He had since regretted letting her have so much time to harry and hassle him over the matter.

 

“I am very, very sure. Why would I want other men looking at and touching my Wife?” He demanded. “It’s an archaic, ridiculous tradition and I want no part of it.”

 

“You were happy for your brother to have a bedding.” His Mother tried. “You even carried Princess Elia to his bed.”

 

Harry snorted, because he _had_ carried Elia to Rhaegar’s wedding chamber that much was true, but she had left through a connecting door to the chambers next door shortly after Rhaegar had arrived, naked and surrounded by fawning, touching women, and hadn’t that offset Harry’s furious jealousy.

The people outside the door had been jibing and making ribald comments, calling out encouragements as they listened at the door, but they had had no idea that it had been Harry in that bed with Rhaegar that night, not Elia.

Tonight, it would be him and Rhaegar in his own wedding chamber, not Ashara. One wonderful thing about them both being married, and having connected wedding chambers, was that it was going to be so much easier for him and Rhaegar to sleep together. The girls were happy to bed in together, meaning that he, Rhaegar and Rhaegon could finally go back to sleeping in the same bedchamber as they had on Dragonstone and no one would be any the wiser.

 

“I won’t judge anyone else who wishes to have a bedding. I will not force my opinions or thoughts onto others, just because Rhaegar had a bedding, that was his choice. This is my wedding and my choice, I don’t want a bedding.”

 

He pressed a hand to his large belly under the table. He could just imagine the reaction of the wedding goers when they undressed him for his bedding and they saw his large, swollen belly. They already thought him overweight and lazy, he had heard the gossip and the snickers behind his back as he rounded out further and had needed to start wearing larger, looser fitting clothing. He was obviously pregnant now and he needed to be taking it easy, resting and putting his feet up, but he needed to be married to keep himself and his family safer.

 

“Well, how does Ashara feel?” His Mother asked him.

 

“Leave him be, Rhaella.” His Father commanded. “He doesn’t want a bedding, so he won’t have one. Who cares what the Dornish girl wants.”

 

Harry saw Ser Arthur shift, just slightly, behind his Father, who seemed to conveniently forget that Ashara was the sister of one of his most honoured guards and the most skilled knight of their time.

 

“She would rather not have a bedding either.” Harry put in mildly, ignoring his Father’s offensive outburst. “She believes that it exploits the married couple and she does not want anyone to lay hands on her. I don’t trust the guests not to slip her a hand while taking her to my bed. She is too beautiful and I won’t have it.”

 

“I wish that you would reconsider, my love. The people don’t like a break in tradition.”

 

“That is not my fault. If they cannot accept things and move along, as time does, how am I to be held responsible? I am not having a bedding, Mother. Ashara and I do not want one and Rhaegon will be in his cradle, in my marriage chambers. Do you think I should expose him to all of those people, shouting and jostling about? He’d be put in danger. He is my priority, Mother, not traditions that I do not hold as my own.”

 

“I could take…”

 

“No.” Harry said, knowing where this was going. “I have pushed him onto so many others in recent turns, I have had enough of being away from him. He is sleeping in my chambers from here on in and he will be in my chambers unless there is a necessary reason not to have him there. Ashara and I will consummate our marriage, but it will be a private event between just the both of us. That is the end of the matter, Mother. I will hear no more about it.”

 

He tried to calm himself down, knowing that it was his pregnancy that was causing him to be so impatient and short of temper. He had been the same with his pregnancy with Rhaegon and with the added stress of knowing that he had to carry for the full nine turns, it was making him very short and irritable.

He stood up and took Rhaegon from his Husband. He put the boy on the floor and took his hand, walking with slow, measured steps so that Rhaegon could keep up with him. He ignored Prince Lewyn behind him until they were in private.

 

“Mother’s madness?” Prince Lewyn asked quietly.

 

Harry sighed and nodded. “Yes. I just feel so unreasonably angry and very short of patience and temper. I can’t sit and reason with people all day anymore, I just cannot stop my temper from boiling over. I have absolutely no patience and arguing the same point repeatedly is tiresome in this condition. I am seven turns pregnant, I do not need this added, unneeded stress.”

 

“How…how is the growing babe?” Prince Lewyn asked.

 

He and Ser Arthur still could not believe that he and Rhaegar had been telling the truth about Rhaegon, but seeing his belly growing and swelling out with child was irrefutable proof that he had carried Rhaegon within his own body and that he was capable of doing so again. They could not claim that he and Rhaegar were not blessed by the gods now that they were witnessing their second child growing fast inside of him.

Of course the two Ladies were excited about the thought of a man sharing their pain of pregnancy and child birth and they very happily helped him on the rare occasions that Rhaegar was not present. They plumped up his cushions, fetched him drinks or food, dealt with Rhaegon, urged him to nap or sit down more often and Lady Ashara loved stroking his growing belly.

 

“This new babe is as boisterous as Rhaegon.” Harry complained. “I think this babe is fighting inside my womb with all the pain and movement it is causing me.”

 

Prince Lewyn chuckled. “Another boy, then.”

 

Harry laughed. Rhaegar had said the same, but with a lot more pride and happiness as he rested his ear on Harry’s belly, trying to listen to the babe inside of him.

 

“I just can’t believe how big this babe is growing. Look at the state of me! As if I could have had a fake bedding like Rhaegar did. As soon as these several layers of clothing come off, the people would run as quickly as they could in the opposite direction.”

 

Prince Lewyn placed a supportive hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry smiled as he kept an eye on Rhaegon, who had forgotten all about his tantrum over his brand new boots, in fact he didn’t seem to care that he was wearing them now, as he ran around and played with his toys.

Harry yawned and rested himself. He was not at all nervous, so he wasn’t up and pacing or fretting like most Husband’s-to-be, he wasn’t really getting married. He had already married the man he loved, so nothing else mattered. He was just going to rest until later that morning, when he would have to go to the Great Sept of Baelor, where he’d been born, and declare his intentions to marry Ashara when he was already married to Rhaegar.

He had already been to the godswood and to the Great Sept very early that morning, before day break, to pray to the gods, old and new, for their patience and acceptance. They knew that he was already married, that this was a waste of their time, but he reassured the gods that that wasn’t the case, that this was needed to keep him and his family safer and that he wasn’t forsaking his vows in any way. He just wanted to keep his family safer, it was all he wanted.

He yawned again, wiping his eyes from the moisture that had gathered there and he lay back with a sigh.

 

“I hope this all works out.” He said softly. “We’re in favour at the moment, how long until that changes?”

 

“Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet. You need to concentrate on this little guy until you’ve had him.” Prince Lewyn insisted, laying his hand over Harry’s swollen belly.

 

Harry smiled at his belly and rubbed it gently. “I’ve already carried him for longer than Rhaegon, I’m not sure how much longer I can carry on. It’s so painful.”

 

“You need to carry for as long as possible, my Prince.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. But I don’t really have that much control over it.”

 

Prince Lewyn nodded his understanding.

 

“Just take things easy and try not to worry about anything. You need to rest all that you can now before the marriage.”

 

“Several hours on my already sore feet. I can hardly contain my excitement.” He answered sarcastically.

 

Prince Lewyn laughed at him and petted his hair. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

 

“It had better with the amount of effort that we’ve put in to covering it up. No one is even suspicious, no one has asked or commented on Rhaegon looking just like Ashara or Rhaegar even though the similarities are impossible to miss. I’m just thankful that he takes more after me.”

 

They both looked at Rhaegon, sitting down and playing, and Harry heaved a heavy sigh. He’d been doing that a lot more lately. He was seven-and-ten, a full grown man and he was expected to marry and have children, but the amount of worry and concern he felt for bringing children into this unstable situation was immensely overwhelming.

He wanted to protect Rhaegon by any means necessary, he wanted to protect his new babe just the same, but it was going to be insanely difficult with two of them to run around after, and with Rhaegon walking and talking now too, it was getting more and more difficult to explain away the things he said as just his young age or him not understanding, because he _was_ understanding more now and he did know what he was saying when he called him Ma and Rhaegar Da. They needed to do something and quickly, before someone actually figured it out and told their Father. All of them would be in danger then.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

The wedding was as long winded as Harry had feared it would be. He had only been three turns pregnant when he had attended Rhaegar in his false marriage to Elia, but he was seven turns pregnant for his own and only an hour into the ceremony, held at midday, and he felt like he needed to sit down, or perhaps have a nice long nap.

Rhaegon had kicked off not ten minutes into the ceremony and he had spent the rest of the time, through long hymns and longer prayers, perched on Harry’s hip, snuggling into his marriage cloak as a way to shut him up with Ashara tucked into his side, her own marriage cloak a bright purple, the white sword to represent the ancestral sword Dawn and the falling star of her ancestral seat, the sigil of her house draped across her back.

She looked stunning in a gown of pale lilac that brought out her stunning eyes. Her hair was coiffured into a beautiful, elegant design and her face was fresh with just a touch of lip colour. She was not overly adorned and she looked so beautiful that Harry knew, if he was not so in love with Rhaegar, then this would have been the woman he would have chosen to marry.

It mattered not now. He was so happy with Rhaegar, his beloved brother. He had Rhaegon, he had his new babe and they were married together. It had been two years now since they had married and they were more in love now than they had been in the beginning. He just wished that they were free to show that love in public, but they weren’t. Not just yet.

Rhaegon was sat in his lap, refusing to be put on his own chair or to go across to his ‘Uncle’, so Harry kept his little son with him as course after course of the massive, extravagant feast was laid out. He much preferred his marriage in front of the old gods and a heart tree, it was much more to his tastes. Simplistic, quick and with as few people as possible and with as little fuss and fanfare as possible.

After the feast and the cutting of the wedding pie filled with live birds, he danced with Ashara for a small time, as Rhaegar danced with Elia and then Ashara. Rhaegon ran around with Ser Jonothor Darry hurrying after his every step and Harry was just exhausted. He was tired, grouchy and getting irritated. His feet hurt, his hips hurt, the extra weight made him feel like he was permanently carrying around a large, heavy rock and he just wanted to lie down in his bed and sleep. But even his bed would be different now. He was moving out of his childhood rooms and into his marriage chamber with Ashara, but in truth he wasn’t. Ashara would be sleeping in Rhaegar’s bed with Elia, in Rhaegar’s wedding chamber just next door to Harry’s own, and Rhaegar would be in his bed with him.

He smiled to himself, that on its own would make this all worth it. He couldn’t wait to climb into his bed with Rhaegar, their son Rhaegon sleeping in his cradle at the foot of their new bed.

 

“My Prince, it is wonderful to see you so happy.”

 

Harry blinked and his eyes came back into focus to see his good friends, the Tyrells.

 

“Lord Mace. I’m so happy to see you.” He said genuinely as he placed a hand on Garlan’s head. “You have grown so big since I last saw you, Garlan.”

 

“So has Rhaegon.” Lady Alerie chuckled as she turned and watched as Rhaegon ran laughing across the dancing area of the hall, Ser Jon Darry barely keeping up with him in his heavy, full scale white armour which weighed him down and slowed him considerably.

 

“He’s sixteen turns now.” Harry said with a smile. “I don’t know where the time is going. I am saddened that your son, Willas and Lady Mother, Olenna, could not be present today, but I understand.” He said truthfully. He more than understood the decision to leave their Heir in Highgarden and bring only their younger son.

 

“Lady Olenna sends her apologies, but she did not…” Lady Alerie started, but Harry quickly cut in.

 

“Wish to leave young Willas alone and sick.” He cut in loudly with an understanding nod. “I more than understand, but I am grateful that you could make it.” Much quieter he bent in to tell them. “Be careful what you say here, even in your own privacy. My Father has spies everywhere, even in the walls. The Red Keep is full of hidden tunnels and passages, anyone could be listening.”

 

Lord Mace nodded and laid a hand on his Wife’s belly. Harry looked closer and he grinned.

 

“Oh, now you didn’t tell me that you were expecting again. You kept that quiet.”

 

Mace grinned back and Lady Alerie blushed. “I am five turns, my Prince.”

 

“You look very well for five turns, Lady Alerie. Princess Elia is pregnant too, four turns, but neither she nor Rhaegar are saying much about it, half the servants are insistent that she has lost the babe, but it is becoming more obvious now that she hasn’t. She asked me to make her something to settle her belly the other week too. If that is not an indication that she is still with babe, I don’t know what is.”

 

“We had heard that she’d fallen pregnant on her wedding night, Mother was very surprised.” Mace nodded.

 

“We would birth within a turn of one another. Our babes would be of an age together.” Lady Alerie said excitedly.

 

Harry smiled at her. “Yes, but keep it quiet for now. They are not overly expressing their knowledge of the babe to anyone, I think they’re afraid of becoming targets for those who would wish to do harm to my family and my family’s line. Father has heard rumours from his spies, that is why poor Ser Jon has the impossible task of shadowing Rhaegon’s steps. He’ll drop from exhaustion within the next hour if he keeps that up.”

 

They all watched as Ser Jon Darry held Rhaegon’s hand to keep him still for a moment while he caught his breath before he let go of the complaining, squirming Prince and then they were off again, Rhaegon running and screeching around the massive Great Hall and poor Ser Jon chasing after him.

 

“I’m going to have to swap Rhaegon’s protectors around. If anyone attacked my son now, Ser Jon would be all but useless.” Harry said before calling out to his son loudly. “Rhaegon! Here.” He pointed to the space in front of his legs and Rhaegon reacted immediately.

 

“Ma!” His son called out as he turned at his call and caught sight of him and he run right into Harry’s legs, where Harry had pointed.

 

Harry smiled and patted his wild, jet black hair that was exactly like his own. Ser Jon caught up and he doubled over, panting, trying to breathe as he sweated in his heavy armour. Harry patted his shoulder as a gesture of shared pain, he too had had to run after Rhaegon and while pregnant it wasn’t fun. Not that any of these people realised that he was seven turns pregnant, they all likely thought that he’d gotten unfit and very fat while he lounged around and ate throughout the day, spending all of his time reading ancient books and scrolls over the last five turns. Only a very select few were privy to the real reason for his added weight and inability to exercise much, the others could not even come close to guessing the real reason for it.

 

“Go and take a drink, Ser, and send over Prince Lewyn, I believe that it’s his turn to run himself into exhaustion. He has been laughing at you for the last half hour.” 

 

Ser Jon looked like he was going to argue, perhaps over losing his ‘job’ and possibly exclaiming that he was fully able to look after a one year old babe thank you, until he heard that last and then he scowled, looking to his sworn brother, who was grinning and laughing at something completely unrelated, but Ser Jon all but growled as he pinned his brother with his glare.

 

“Yes, my Prince. I do believe that it is his turn to watch Prince Rhaegon. I’ll be just a moment.”

 

Harry laughed to himself in amusement and congratulation of a situation well handled.

 

“Prince Lewyn wasn’t laughing at Ser Jon, was he?” Lord Mace asked with a look, understanding Harry’s amusement.

 

Harry laughed again and shook his head. “No, my friend, he wasn’t. It amuses me though and it prevents arguments over whose job is what when I change Rhaegon’s protection. It would have been an insult to Ser Jon if I’d told him that I was worried that he couldn’t adequately protect my son and I was taking him from Rhaegon’s protection duty for the rest of the night.”

 

“Ser Jon seems to be under the impression that I was laughing at his expense, my Prince.” Prince Lewyn told him, striding over to confront him.

 

“I wonder where he got that idea from.” Harry replied in a very fake, over exaggerated innocence.

 

Lady Alerie laughed daintily and Lord Mace laughed loudly.

 

“I did not wish to insult Ser Jon by telling him that he’s too exhausted from running around in full scale armour that I did not think he could protect Rhaegon if an attack were to occur.” Harry explained quietly. “I needed to change Rhaegon’s protection without insulting anyone.”

 

Prince Lewyn smiled and placed a mailed hand on Rhaegon’s head. “That’s alright, I don’t mind playing wet nurse to him and looking after Rhaegon is always a pleasure.”

 

It took Harry only a moment to realise that Prince Lewyn was talking about Ser Jon and that he was complaining that he was Ser Jon’s wet nurse, not Rhaegon’s, and he laughed, his mind as sharp as ever.

 

“I knew you’d understand. You’re far too intelligent for your own good.”

 

Harry grinned. “There’s no such thing as too intelligent. There is always something new, something else, to learn.”

 

“And that is why you should have become a Maester proper, my Prince.”

 

Rhaegon, who had been distracted for a few minutes by Garlan Tyrell, grabbed his new friend by the hand and pulled him away, off over the platform that held the top table and that was the end of Prince Lewyn’s night, as he was forced to follow the two young boys as they ran around the Great Hall giggling.

Ashara came over to him then and she embraced him carefully, so as not to expose his growing belly, and she kissed his cheek.

Harry all but beamed at her and pecked her mouth as if she were his Mother. He felt next to no arousal from being near her, not like he did when Rhaegar would kiss him or hold him or even just brush past him, but he could still see that she was a very beautiful, attractive woman and he was the luckiest man in the whole world to have her attention and Rhaegar’s true love. He was not blind to the looks of appreciation that Ashara got, nor the jealous glares that were aimed at himself.

 

“Ashara, please, meet my friends, Lord Mace Tyrell and his Lady Wife, Alerie. They have two sons, Willas and Garlan, and another babe on the way too. Lord Mace, Lady Alerie, please meet my Lady wife, Princess Ashara Dayne.”

 

“It is lovely to meet you.” Ashara said graciously, Harry’s wedding cloak around her shoulders, proudly displaying the red, three headed dragon on black of house Targaryen. “But I came over to offer a dance to my Husband.”

 

Harry smiled and he took Ashara’s hands into his own and bowed over them, kissing the dainty appendages gently before standing back up and leading her away, down off of the platform that held the top table and to the space cleared of tables and benches that was designated as the dancing area.

He held her gently, one arm around her waist, his other hand holding hers, their fingers laced together and he put his face to hers, their noses brushing which made him laugh and Ashara smile.

They danced together for four long songs until Harry absolutely just had to sit down again.

 

“I can’t stand anymore, Ashara.” He whispered. “My knees and feet are so pained, I need to sit down before I fall down.”

 

She nodded understandingly and she kissed his cheek.

 

“Come, Husband. I need a drink.” She insisted loudly, for the sake of those dancing close by them, as she took his hand and led him from the dancing area back up to the top table.

 

Harry all but fell back into his seat and he took a deep drink of water to keep himself from groaning in pleasure as he took the weight from his throbbing feet.

 

“Is that better?” She whispered in to his ear, placing a coy look upon her face for the sake of those watching them, as if she were whispering naughty, sweet nothings to him.

 

Harry nodded. “So much better. Until you’re pregnant yourself, you won’t understand the sheer pleasure of sitting down.”

 

Ashara laughed at him and they sat, their hands entwined on the table top so that others could see.

 

“You might wish to make your escape now.” Rhaegar told him as he passed behind him. “The bedding hour will be soon.”

 

“Five minutes, find Prince Lewyn and get him to take Rhaegon to the door and I’ll pick him up from there.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and left into the crowd of noble wedding goers. Only when Harry saw Prince Lewyn holding tightly to the hand of a struggling, complaining Rhaegon by the door did he stand and take Ashara over to them, smiling and laughing all the way, as if they were just merely mingling as they were supposed to be doing.

 

“Prince Rhaegar said to wait here with Rhaegon.” Prince Lewyn explained.

 

Harry nodded. “We’re making our escape now.” He said. “Thank you for your help.”

 

Prince Lewyn nodded as Harry took Rhaegon’s hand and hurried him through the door with Ashara and they moved from the Great Hall, over the serpentine steps and to Maegor’s Holdfast, which was being guarded by the newly raised Jaime Lannister, who was deeply unhappy to be stuck on the bridge and not allowed to attend the wedding feast. Harry was sure that Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was doing such things purposefully to punish Jaime Lannister for Aerys Targaryen’s decision to give him a white cloak.

 

“Ser Jaime.” Harry greeted.

 

“My Prince.” He greeted, looking confused. “Are you not having a bedding?”

 

“No, Ser. Rhaegon is staying in our rooms and I will not have anyone disturbing him or putting him in danger while he sleeps.”

 

“I didn’t want a bedding either.” Ashara said simply, playing her part so well, so believably, that Harry almost took it as fact himself. “I much prefer a private bedding with just my Husband and I like the thought of him being the only one to see me unclothed.”

 

“I like the idea too. I suppose I’m just a jealous man at heart.” He laughed, knowing it to be true, but only with his beloved Rhaegar.

 

“You’re a wonderful man, Haradarian the Heart. Now, let us go to our marriage chamber and put this little sweet boy down to sleep and then we can have our _privacy_.” She all but purred sultrily at him.

 

Harry smiled, forcing a lusty look onto his face and he nodded to Jaime again before he hurried Ashara and Rhaegon over the bridge and to his new wedding chamber, that had candles burning on every surface and fresh flowers in several vases around the room set up by the servants as Harry and Ashara had been feasting.

 

“This is Dragon’s breath, your favourite flower.” Ashara smiled at him.

 

Harry grinned. “Yes, I really do love it. The deep red colour, the sweet smell of them, the silky way they feel. I just love them.” He said happily.

 

“Ma.” Rhaegon cooed to get his attention, before indicating his new boots.

 

“Okay, come on. Let’s get those boots off of your feet.” Harry cooed back, sitting Rhaegon on his new, massive solid bed and unlacing the tiny boots.

 

Rhaegon giggled and threw himself backwards and tried to roll on the bed as Harry tried to pull his boots off of his feet. He struggled with Rhaegon and finally manged to pull the boots off one by one. He grunted as he threw the boots away and then he pulled off Rhaegon’s wedding apparel, including the tiny Targaryen cloak.

Once in just his smallclothes, Harry got his son into a sleeping tunic and then dug out his harp. He struck a note and immediately Rhaegon stopped rolling on the bed and turned to him with a cheeky grin. Rhaegon loved the sounds of a high harp, though he loved it better when his Father played the harp, who was better at it than he was, but Harry was the one who always sung to him. Rhaegar didn’t like singing, he didn’t have the voice for it.

Harry sung five short, soft songs until Rhaegon finally fell asleep in the middle of Harry’s bed and Harry was able to carefully pick him up and lay him in his cradle and cover him over. He sighed and went back to the bed, laying on it happily.

Ashara came and laid next to him, rubbing his growing belly.

 

“It’s over.” She told him gently. “You can just rest now until the big day.” She said, referring to his labour.

 

“I hate that Rhaegar and Elia are going to claim this babe as their own. I’ll have to sneak around just to feed my own babe and the thought makes me feel sick.”

 

“It won’t be for very long.” Ashara soothed. “Rhaegar is going to let all the members of the Kingsguard in on the real marriage one by one, after that, he’s going to hold another great council. No one is going to keep Aerys on the throne with how he’s been acting and behaving, he’s too unstable.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. But even another year is going to destroy my bond with my own babe and I can’t stand the thought of it.”

 

“You will claim sickness for the first week or two and you’ll be abed with your babe while Elia is locked up in Rhaegar’s wedding chamber for the same amount of time to ‘recover from her labour.’ You will have time to feed and bond to the babe.”

 

Harry took in a deep breath and he nodded. “I know. I just don’t like the thought of being away from my own babe for any length of time.”

 

“You won’t have to be.” Ashara assured him. “Rhaegar will be sleeping in these rooms with you and he will bring your babe with him every night, and I’m sure as the true Mother of the babe, you will have the child throughout the day too, no one would think it strange, to them you would be the babe’s ‘Uncle’ so it won’t be unusual for you to have the babe to _help out_ a bit. Rhaegar did the same with Rhaegon and no one suspected anything amiss.”

 

Harry smiled, actually reassured a little and he laid himself down on the pillows and relaxed his body. Ashara snuggled into his back and he touched her hand, the one that was drawing patterns on his pregnant belly.

 

“We’ll all be here for you when you birth.” She assured him softly. “You won’t go through it alone again.”

 

“I wasn’t truly alone when I birthed Rhaegon, Rhaegar was there.” Harry said sleepily.

 

“Some good he was.” Ashara snorted. “From what you told me he was pretty useless.”

 

“Not useless, but there wasn’t much that he could do. There’s not much that anyone can do.”

 

“You will set everything up and then tell us what you need and we will get it for you.” Ashara said. “We are determined to help you, Haradarian.”

 

“Everything I need is already in this room. I’ve labelled all the medicines and things that I needed for Rhaegon, the newly forged dagger is ready. I’ll just need a bowl or two of boiled water when I actually go into labour and that’ll be it.”

 

“I can’t wait to see you birth.”

 

“I can.” Harry laughed. “I need to hold on for another two turns, but I’ve already gone over how long I carried Rhaegon for, everything now is unknown territory for me.”

 

“We are here and we are going to help you through this.” Ashara told him determinedly.

 

Harry smiled and laid still and silent. He dropped off to sleep and he didn’t wake up again until the morning and when he did wake up, he had been changed and dressed in a sleeping tunic and it was Rhaegar who was wrapped lovingly around his body under the sheets.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Two turns later, Harry had claimed that he wasn’t feeling very well and he had been excused from his daily tasks as a Prince. He was wearing several layers, thus he was red flushed and sweating heavily which made him look sick, but he needed the extra clothes to hide the huge baby bump he had. But he heard the whispers and the gossip whispered behind his back still, most of the servants, and even his parents too, in fact everyone who wasn’t in the know about his pregnancy, thought that he had gotten very fat and gross with his several moon turns of complete inactivity and his Mother had even tried to subtly push him at hunting, hawking or sword practice, all of which Harry had steadfastly refused as he buried his nose deeper into his books as Rhaegar run around after their very active, boisterous son.

His bump wasn’t strictly that big, he was not as big as a woman would have been at nine turns, but as a man, it was very, very noticeable that he was an odd shape. Men did not have the shape of a pregnant woman naturally, so he had to hide the bump as much as he could and endure the ‘fat’ jokes behind his back and it was grating on him in the last turn of pregnancy as he was so irritable anyway, due to the pain in his back, hips, legs, feet and what seemed to be every part of his body. He couldn’t sleep comfortably, he couldn’t sit comfortably, he couldn’t stand for more than half an hour at a time and he needed a piss what seemed like every hour.

He made it to his rooms with Ser Arthur Dayne shadowing him and he all but crawled into his bed and stayed there.

 

“I’m dying.” He complained dramatically, and unhappily.

 

Ser Arthur chuckled and sat on the bed with him and used both hands to massage his lower back. Harry groaned happily as the knight rubbed right into his back with both thumbs, hard. One vertebrae popped and another lower down cracked and he breathed in deeply and then let that air out on a moan.

 

“That felt so good.” He praised. “Don’t stop.”

 

Ser Arthur continued to rub Harry’s back for several minutes before he moved on to his feet, tugging off his boots and digging those wonderful thumbs into the soles of his feet. Harry moaned louder.

 

“If you don’t stop that, then Rhaegar might have me killed for a misunderstanding. There are servants running around outside that door.”

 

“I don’t care.” Harry groaned.

 

“It’s my head on the block.” Ser Arthur teased.

 

“No one would dare put your pretty head on a block.” Harry smiled into his pillow. “Not when you do such wonderful things to my body.”

 

Arthur laughed as he continued pampering his feet. “When will you birth now?”

 

“Any day now, at any moment.” Harry sighed. “One moment I’ll be fine, the next labour could start. I can’t do this pregnancy any longer, it’s too much. It’s been too long and I’ve prayed to the gods to keep the baby in me for as long as possible and I’ve done so. Elia has been doing a good job of pretending to be pregnant, but it’s time now, this babe needs to come out before our farce is blown out of the water and someone sees or hears something that they shouldn’t. I can’t keep hiding away because of my belly. It’s not an option anymore. I need to have this baby within the week or we risk being caught out.”

 

“Is there any way to bring on labour?” Ser Arthur asked curiously.

 

“There are, but none of them are especially safe. I would prefer it if my babe came out naturally, in his or her own time, but if I go for another week, then I may not have another option.”

 

A servant came to the door, being denied entry to the room, to inform them that supper had been served and Harry forced himself up, having Ser Arthur lace his boots back up, and he hobbled to the royal solar where he nibbled at the food as his eighteen turn old son ate whatever was in reach.

 

“Rhaegon, eat properly.” Ashara coached him gently, sitting him on her own lap and feeding him much smaller bites from her own fork. Rhaegon loved this little game and he giggled after every mouthful. He truly had become very attached to Ashara and it made Harry smile.

 

Near the end of supper, in which he ignored his parents, and the servants’, inquiring looks at him as he barely ate enough to feed a bird, as none of them understood where his mass weight gain was coming from as he wasn’t eating any more than usual, less than usual in fact, he was just snacking a bit more often.

It was nearing the end of the meal when there was a sharp twinge in his back that had him going very pale. He knew exactly what that twinge meant and he felt sick at the thought of the unbearable agony that was to come very soon.

 

“Are you feeling any better, darling?” His Mother asked a moment later. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her with his pale, sweaty face, trying to decipher what she was saying.

 

“Not particularly, Mother. I think I have a slight fever. So if it’s all the same, I think I will retire after I’ve supped.”

 

“I could watch over Rhaegon tonight, so that he won’t catch your fever.”

 

Harry nodded. “That would be perfect. I would hate for him to be exposed to this sickness.”

 

He stood and he used the table to support himself. He shared a panicked look with Rhaegar, whose purple eyes widened as he understood what was happening as he caught the silent message passed to him with just a look.

 

“Prince Lewyn, could you escort me please?” He asked, his voice trembling with the strengthening twinges in his lower spine. “Ser Arthur, could I trouble you to collect some boiled water for my head?”

 

The two members of the Kingsguard both swallowed visibly as Prince Lewyn came to support him and Lady Ashara stood, handing Rhaegon to Queen Rhaella and following them out, exclaiming that she was going to make him feel better and stay awake with him all night if need be.

Rhaegar and Elia stayed for a little longer, until after supper so they didn’t draw any suspicion, and then they retired as Elia claimed that her back and belly were feeling a bit sore.

They made it to Rhaegar’s wedding chamber, the room where the two girls slept, to find Harry with a death grip on Prince Lewyn’s arm as he laid in the bed.

 

“Harry, my sweet love, are you alright?” Rhaegar exclaimed worriedly as he went straight to his Husband and embraced him gently.

 

“It hurts so much.” He gasped, his whole body writhing in agony. His hands clenched even tighter on Prince Lewyn’s hand and wrist.

 

“Now?!” Ashara asked as she hurried in with a large leather bag that tinkled with numerous pieces of glass as she moved.

 

Harry shook his head. “I can’t make a single incision yet, I need the water here first.”

 

Ashara bit her lip before turning and busying herself with laying out all of the potions and pastes that Harry had showed to her from the leather bag he’d kept them in, onto a nearby table, all neatly lined up and their labels facing outwards for convenience and easy viewing.

 

“Hurry up Arthur.” She hissed aloud, trying to chide her brother to move faster, as she worriedly looked to Harry in the bed.

 

Harry gasped again and Rhaegar pulled off his belt and folded it over.

 

“Bite down.” He encouraged as he realised that Harry was so very close to screaming.

 

Harry opened his mouth and Rhaegar slotted the folded leather into his mouth and Harry clamped down tight and hard with his teeth as the urge to scream built up higher.

He screamed into the leather, thankfully very muffled, with the next spasm of pain that ripped through his lower back. He grunted several times, made a strange noise and then reached for Rhaegar, who held him tightly, trying to ease the pain in his back with the heel of his hand. Harry opened his mouth wide on a silent groan, the belt falling from between his teeth.

 

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Harry chanted, his body wracked with powerful convulsions. He clamped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and held onto him crushingly tight. “Oh, oh, oh, gods’ no. I can’t do this, not again.” He panted, holding the belt in his hand with a death grip.

 

“You can, put the belt back in your mouth.” Rhaegar said soothingly. “As soon as you hold our babe in your arms, you’ll forget all about this pain, the same as you did with Rhaegon.”

 

“Stop talking or I’ll strangle you.” Harry forced out through gritted teeth as his knees shook to try and handle the pain. “Oh, by the gods I am never doing this again.” He sobbed.

 

“You said that with Rhaegon too.” Rhaegar told him gently.

 

“Shut up, Rhaegar!” Harry commanded as his Husband supported him and held him.

 

The connecting door to the other bed chamber opened and then closed and Ser Arthur was there with a large kettle of boiled water, which was then poured into two different bowls, leaving a small amount remaining in the kettle.

 

“Lock the door.” Rhaegar ordered and Ashara ran to bolt both of the doors closed, the one onto the corridor and the other through to the other wedding chamber.

 

Rhaegar got Harry lying on his back, supported sort of upright with a large pile of soft cushions and pillows under his head and shoulders.

He helped him remove the many layers of clothes, leaving him naked from the waist up, harshly exposing his large bump.

 

“Hand me the dagger.” Rhaegar commanded, receiving the dagger and dipping it into the bowl of boiled water and wiping it dry with a clean linen cloth.

 

Harry felt the dagger being pressed into his right hand and he tried to focus, tried to concentrate.

 

“Wipe my eyes.” He told Rhaegar, who used the cloth to do just that, clearing Harry’s vision.

 

“You’ve been stabbed before.” Ser Arthur reminded him.

 

“This is worse.” He said shakily. “I’d rather be stabbed than go through the back breaking pain of this labour. I’d rather be back in the crow cage.” He sobbed.

 

“No you wouldn’t.” Rhaegar told him easily. “You wouldn’t be here with me otherwise.”

 

Harry sniffled and he nodded. “Stand away.” He said to the others.

 

“We’re here to help.” Ashara told him firmly.

 

“I know, but there is little you can do at the moment…and there’s going to be a lot of blood.” He added as he clenched his hand around the handle of the dagger.

 

Rhaegar leant his strength to him, covering Harry’s hand with his own to stop the shaking, but it was Harry who had to control how deeply he went, how far the incision went and he had to stop and throw his head back from the pain of cutting himself open, clenching his jaw together so that he wouldn’t scream and bring everyone in Maegor’s Holdfast running.

 

“Come on, Harry. Quickly.” Rhaegar encouraged.

 

“I would fucking love to see you do this you cunt licking, greyscale carrying, swine!”

 

“There are Ladies present.” Rhaegar reminded him disapprovingly.

 

“I don’t give a fucking hairy arsehole if there are Ladies present!” He raged as he was forced to cut himself wider.

 

His hand tried to let go of the dagger, to let go of the weapon that was causing him such pain, but Rhaegar held his hand tight to the handle of the dagger and he couldn’t get his hand free.

 

“Please. I can’t…I can’t.” He begged with tears streaming down his face.

 

“You can.” Rhaegar encouraged. “Quickly now, Harry.”

 

His legs kicked out reflexively, but Rhaegar was between them, so Harry couldn’t kick him, all he could do was kick air and dig his feet into the sheets.

 

“Almost there.” Rhaegar said soothingly. “Come on.”

 

“Go fuck yourself.” Harry declared as he slit into himself further and he screeched in pain.

 

“Quiet!” Rhaegar shushed him.

 

Harry snapped his eyes open in disbelief and he snarled. “If you tell me to be quiet again then I’ll ram this blade in your piss slit and we’ll see how silent you can be!” He growled.

 

Rhaegar ignored him, used to Harry’s threats from when he and Harry had birthed Rhaegon. Harry had apologised profusely after he had recovered and Rhaegar had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. It was Harry’s way of dealing with this overwhelming pain and anything, anything at all, that got Harry through this pain, was to be endured and even welcomed.

He took the dagger from Harry, putting it down on the sheets within his reach and he put both of his hands into Harry’s body and tried to ignore the almost inhuman screech of agony that Harry emitted at the action.

 

“Bowl.” He said shortly, looking to his left as Ser Arthur held out the bowl of water ready, the man’s face was as pale as a sheet and his eyes were wide and disbelieving as he watched without daring to blink.

 

Rhaegar plucked his babe from Harry’s womb and placed it into the bowl of water.

 

“Wash it off.” He ordered. “Then wrap it in a towel. Ashara, needle and sinew.”

 

Harry had put his hands inside his body to pull out the after birth, but he encountered another leg and he panicked.

 

“Rhaegar. Rhaegar!” He gasped as he pulled a second baby free of his body.

 

Rhaegar froze for a moment, before snatching the second babe into his arms.

 

“Another bowl.” He ordered and Prince Lewyn hurried to collect the second bowl and Rhaegar placed the second babe into the water. “Is that it?” He asked Harry, trying not to panic at these unexpected, unforeseen happenings.

 

Harry ripped out his own placenta and screeched loudly as he did so. Cruelly he had to repeat this with a second placenta before he nodded, sniffling through his streaming nose, his eyes red from his continuous tears, showing that he was ready for the next stage. Rhaegar once again steadied his hand as Harry stitched himself up tightly.

 

“Poppy.” He sobbed.

 

“Not yet. Finish this first.” Rhaegar encouraged, trying to remain calm and supportive. “It needs to be cleaned too.”

 

“I can do that.” Ashara said in a very high voice, sounding breathless from her own panic at seeing what was happening in front of her. “Harry showed me how to make the vinegar, salt and clove solution.”

 

“Make it, Ashara. We’re almost done.” Rhaegar ordered as he kept his focus on Harry, putting the stitches in carefully, one at a time, pulling them tight.

 

“One part vinegar, one part sa…salt and…ah!” Harry cried out.

 

“Half a part cloves in a cup of boiled water. I remember.” Ashara said as she took the pots and bottles from where she’d lined them up and started crushing the salt and cloves together into a fine powder, trying to look anywhere but at the bed, where Harry and Rhaegar were working together to stitch up the gaping belly wound. Elia Martell had moved as far away as she possibly could and she was watching from a chair in the corner, her face white under the olive colour of her skin.

 

“What do we do with these?” Prince Lewyn asked, tugging very gently on one of the cords coming from the baby he was cradling in a towel. It was leaking blood.

 

“Tie it off with the harp string and then cut it shorter.” Rhaegar ordered, handing over the dagger. “Quickly.”

 

“Poppy.” Harry repeated as he felt his way across the wound he had made, stitching it closed and relying heavily on Rhaegar to move his hand and keep it still as he could no longer see through his pained tears.

 

“Not yet, Harry, just a little longer.”

 

Twin cries were heard from the newborns and Harry panicked, picking his head up to try and look at his newborn babes, but Rhaegar forced his hand to keep moving.

 

“They’ve had their cords tied off and cut, Harry. That’s all, carry on.”

 

“I’m so tired.” He croaked out. “So tired, so much pain.”

 

“I know, just a bit more and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

 

Rhaegar was forced to finish the last few stitches when Harry’s hand went floppy and he refused to stitch himself up fully.

 

“I’m done with the solution.” Ashara said quietly.

 

 “Just a moment.” Rhaegar said as he tied off the last stitch. It wasn’t very neat, but his Husband was fully closed off and he was no longer bleeding. “Milk of the poppy first.”

 

It was Elia, who had been holding the vial of poppy milk in both hands as if it were the only thing keeping her from fainting, who jumped up from her chair and hurried over to hand it over before retreating again, leaving Rhaegar to encourage and help Harry to drink a few drops.

He took the bowl of solution from Ashara and he applied it, dabbing it on Harry and pressing gently as the poppy milk took away his pain and his consciousness after several very long, very agonising and heart wrenching minutes where he was forced to listen to his Husband sobbing and pleading with him, with the gods, to take away the pain for him, his breath hitching with the pain, his eyes red raw from his continuous tears and then blessed silence as the poppy milk knocked Harry unconscious, finally.

 

“The babes, are they okay?” He asked, calming down a little now that the panic was over and his beloved Harry was finally out of pain and sleeping.

 

“I…I don’t know. I’m not a Maester nor a wood’s witch.” Ser Arthur said, but he shoved the babe he was holding under Rhaegar’s nose.

 

He looked the babe over and he nodded at the blue eyes peering back at him from under a tuft of dark hair. That was going to complicate things. More so as the second babe was shown to him by Prince Lewyn and that one too had dark hair and blue eyes.

 

“They both look fine. I’ll look closer in a moment, just let me sort Harry out first.”

 

“No one will believe that I carried twins.” Elia fretted.

 

“What else can they believe?” Rhaegar asked calmly. “It is not as if they would ever guess the truth of it.”

 

“The truth is too unbelievable.” Prince Lewyn agreed. “I’ve watched it, before my very eyes, and I’m still having trouble believing it. I am holding the babe that I saw being pulled from his body and I still find it hard to believe.”

 

“Imagine how we were with Rhaegon.” Rhaegar said seriously. “Not knowing what to do, not knowing what was going to happen. We bluffed our way through it. It was only thanks to Harry’s wonderfully intelligent mind that I did not lose the both of them that night.”

 

Things remained silent as Rhaegar finished applying the solution before he sat back and put his bloodied hands into the kettle of remaining water to clean them off. He would need to change his tunic and breeches too, the entire front of him, including his rolled up sleeves and lap, were drenched with his Husband’s blood. He turned to his children only when his hands were as clean as he could get them, but blood was very hard to remove.

He took both of the babes into his arms and he kissed them both in turn.

 

“Could someone get their sleeping tunics, and some smallclothes? I’m sure Harry placed some in here.”

 

Elia was the one to grab the requested items and Rhaegar removed the linen cloth from what he noticed was his first daughter. He smiled at her as he pinned her into her smallclothes and put her into a sleeping tunic. He did the same for the second babe and he smiled wider as he saw that he had a second daughter. He pinned her smallclothes in place and dressed her before he cradled the both of them in his arms.

 

“Two daughters.” He said softly. “Thank you, Harry.” He whispered to his knocked out Husband.

 

“How do we handle this now?” Ashara asked.

 

“Harry has claimed sickness. You will arrive in the solar tomorrow morning and beg off for him, saying that he is too ill to be up. I will leave it until the midday meal I think and then I’ll show up and claim that Elia went into labour late at night and that I delivered the babes myself as there was no time to fetch Grand Maester Pycelle.”

  

“If you wish to be rid of him, then it might be better if you said that you sent a servant to fetch him and he did not answer your call.” Ser Arthur said seriously.

 

“That’s dangerous. Those lies could be found out.” Rhaegar countered.

 

“There is a mute girl who works in the kitchens. No lie could be found from her. But she can write.”

 

Rhaegar smirked cruelly. He nodded. “Find her. I will give her a silver coin to go along with this lie.”

 

“That would work for Harry too.” Ashara said softly, as if unsure she should be a part of the planning. “If Grand Maester Pycelle is removed from office, no one will be free to check on him until the Citadel sends a replacement, which could take a turn or two. They won’t find out the lie that he’s not truly sick.”

 

“It has to be done.” Rhaegar sighed as he saw from both sides of the argument.

 

“He’ll be executed.” Elia fretted.

 

“Good.” Rhaegar snarled. “I still haven’t forgiven him for being abed with a whore when Harry was brought home. I was not pleased when he wrangled a second chance from my Father. He won’t be given a third chance, I’ll ensure it.”

 

“What will you name your daughters?” Ashara asked to try and lighten the mood a little.

 

Rhaegar shook his head. “I will debate it with Harry, as we did for Rhaegon. No one will blame us for waiting a few days after such a sudden birth if we wait a week or so to announce the names, but Harry honoured me with the naming of Rhaegon, I wish to honour him back with the naming of our two daughters.”

 

“When will he wake?”

 

“Not for some time. I will strip him and bathe him of blood and put him in his own room. These sheets need to be changed and if I am to play this right, I need to go hunt down Pycelle and give him a piece of my mind. You two need to be gone, but see to the mute girl first, give her a silver stag and tell her to write a small missive on a piece of parchment, me requesting Pycelle to attend me immediately in my bed chambers in the way that she would have written such a message, it has to be something that she can easily remember and repeat under questioning, she will also need to say that he was abed with another whore. Lady Ashara, if you could stay with Harry so that I know that he has someone with him.”

 

Ashara nodded and the two Kingsguard members lingered, unwilling to leave their beloved friends, but they both took deep breaths, ignoring the tang of blood and medicine in the room, and they did as they’d been ordered to.

They took a silver stag from Rhaegar and they went and found the mute girl, who was sleeping in her straw bed off of the kitchens. After waking her up and assuring her that they weren’t going to harm her, they handed her the silver coin, and they got her to write on a small slip of parchment that she carried around with her and then they coached her through what to say, repeating as such to her several times what she was to do and say when questioned tomorrow morning, assuring her again that no harm would come to her and that these orders were from the Princes themselves. She nodded her understanding, handed over the piece of parchment and she was left to go back to sleep again.

Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur then snuck back into White Sword Tower and to their own small rooms as silently as they could, pretending that they had been there for hours already, but sleep did not come easy to them that night as they each thought about what they had been witness to that evening. It was not every day that one saw a man birth twin daughters before their very own eyes.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Barristan was startled by a massive commotion that morning and he drew his sword without even having to think of it. He moved forward to shield his King and the four other members of the royal family in the royal solar. Queen Rhaella who was holding the growing Prince Rhaegon, little Prince Viserys and the newest addition, Princess Ashara.

He ignored that in a part of his heart he loved her, that he found her very beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world. He was too old for her, she was a young, beautiful, kind woman and she had married the boy he saw as a son. A better match couldn’t be found, they adored one another and he would hold his feelings close to his chest and never act on them. He _could_ never act on them as he had sworn an oath, and Ashara deserved someone as kind and attentive as Haradarian and Haradarian deserved a woman like Ashara Dayne after all that he’d been through in his life.

She had come into the solar that morning looking tired, worried and a bit stressed. She had told everyone that Haradarian was very unwell and that he did not feel well enough to come to break his fast. Queen Rhaella had looked worried too, but King Aerys had only commented on that he would send Grand Maester Pycelle to check on the boy after he had broken his own fast.

The commotion however, seemed to _be_ Grand Maester Pycelle as he hurried into the room amid a flurry of wordless noises. Prince Rhaegar stalked after him, there were red stains on the skin of his arms and dried blood around and under his fingernails and immediately, Barristan was on high alert.

 

“Do not dare try to lie to me!” Rhaegar demanded of the quavering old man.

 

“What has happened, my son?” King Aerys asked, struggling to get to his feet.

 

“This…this _creature_ dared to ignore my summons last night.” He declared furiously to his Father.

 

“My Prince, I received no summons, I swear it on the Seven!”

 

“I don’t believe you!” Rhaegar roared.

 

“Is it Haradarian? Has he worsened?” Queen Rhaella asked.

 

That seemed to calm Prince Rhaegar for a moment as it distracted his mind from his rage. “Has Haradarian worsened?”

 

“Yes, dear. But if this isn’t about Haradarian, what is it about?”

 

“Elia went into labour last night. I sent a passing servant girl to fetch this filth and he never showed. I had to deliver my own babes and I am no Maester like Haradarian! So many things could have gone wrong, Elia could have died! There was so much blood and it got everywhere.”

 

“Oh, by the Seven, is she alright?”

 

“She’s fine. She’s resting. But I had no inkling as to what I was doing and she gave me two babes at once.”

 

That surprised Barristan, who had not believed that Elia Martell had it in her to carry one babe, much less two at once. She was not the most hale of women and she had always been delicate and sickly.

 

“Two babes?” King Aerys was overjoyed. “Sons?”

 

Then his smile fell as quickly as it had come when Rhaegar shook his head.

 

“Both girls.” He said with a soft smile, before finding his rage again and turning back to Pycelle. “I sent for you and you refused to answer me! You put my newborn daughters at risk of death and you did the same to my Wife! I want to know why?!”

 

“Send for the servant, my Prince, I swear on the Seven that no one came for me. It is the servant at fault, not I!”

 

“Ser Arthur, fetch the small girl who works in the kitchens, she’s brown haired and has large blue eyes. I believe that her name is Greta or something similar.” Rhaegar ordered, almost spitting in his anger.

 

Ser Arthur nodded and he left to the kitchens to fetch the girl that he had bribed earlier that night with a silver coin, and to plant the message that she had written in the Grand Maester’s rooms to frame him truly.

Barristan looked from the obviously angry Prince, to the cowering Pycelle and he wondered what the truth was here. Pycelle looked to be telling the truth, but Prince Rhaegar was rightfully furious. He knew also that no servant would have dared disobey a command from the Prince. One of these men was a better liar, a better mummer, than he’d ever suspected of them and that made him very suspicious.

 

“Are the babes alright, Rhaegar?” Queen Rhaella asked.

 

“I don’t know, Mother. I am not a Maester. I would have asked Haradarian as a priority, but he’s sick and cannot get out of bed and it is not a good idea to have him near newborn babes while he is so sick. I was forced to rely on this _thing_ and he didn’t even bother to show up and attend me! What use is he if he ignores my orders and leaves me, _me_ , to deliver my own babes when I had no idea of what I was doing?! What use is he?!” Rhaegar spat, his eyes almost as hard as stone as he glared at the cowering Grand Maester.

 

“You cut their cords?” Queen Rhaella asked calmly.

 

“Yes, Mother.” Rhaegar said uncomfortably.

 

“They were both breathing and both crying?”

 

“Yes. They’re so tiny though, I don’t remember Rhaegon being so tiny and he was born two turns premature too.”

 

“There are two babes in the same sized space, Rhaegar. They wouldn’t have had an opportunity to grow as big as Rhaegon.” The Queen said as she touched Rhaegon’s black hair as he gnawed on bread. Little Prince Rhaegon loved bread and particularly fish, he was a very hearty eater and that was a very good sign in a babe born premature, he would be a big, strong man, Barristan was almost certain of it.

 

Ser Arthur took an age to come back with a tiny little serving girl, much longer than it should have taken, but the little girl looked absolutely terrified. Barristan did not like the way this was going as the King’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. He hoped desperately that she had delivered Rhaegar’s message to Pycelle and hadn’t ignored his order in favour of getting to bed quicker. He couldn’t stand and watch as a mere girl of eight or nine years was tortured and then burnt alive.

 

“I did not see this girl last night!” Pycelle said quickly.

 

“Of course you would say that!” Rhaegar spat back. He crouched down in front of the girl and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you remember that I called you from down the hallway last night?” He asked calmly, softly.

 

The little girl nodded furiously.

 

“Do you remember what I told you?”

 

The girl nodded again, just as vigorously.

 

“Answer with word’s, girl!” King Aerys demanded.

 

“Your Grace, forgive me, the kitchen staff told me that she could not answer with words, she’s a mute.” Ser Arthur explained.

 

“You see, my Prince, she couldn’t have told me anything!” Pycelle jumped in, almost sagging with sheer relief.

 

“Did you pass my message on to this man here?” Rhaegar asked, unwilling to give up.

 

The girl nodded so quickly that Barristan was worried that she might injure her own neck.

 

“How?” Rhaegar asked her.

 

The little girl mimed writing and Rhaegar’s eyes lit up. “You know how to read and write? Fetch her some parchment and ink immediately!”

 

“I did not see this girl, I didn’t get any message from her!”

 

“Ser Gerold, go to Pycelle’s rooms, look for the missive. He might have tried to throw it away or burn it.” Rhaegar commanded.

 

Ser Gerold gave a short bow and he strode off, his white plate mail clanking with each strong step. A servant brought in some parchment and ink and Rhaegar stood over the girl as she carefully wrote down the same message that she had written the night before.

 

“This is what you wrote to Pycelle when you saw him?” Rhaegar asked as he read the words and then passed it to his Father. The girl nodded furiously. “And you passed it into his own hand?”

 

The girl shook her head this time.

 

“No? Then to whom did you pass it to?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

 

The girl wrote just one word this time and Barristan could read it easily as she spelled out the word ‘whore’ on the page. Rhaegar’s face turned to thunder, his eyes to ice.

 

“You were with another whore?” He demanded lowly, even as he slammed his fist down on the table. “Even after the first time that you were caught, you were abed with another one. You deemed your whore a higher priority than my brother then and now you deemed a whore higher than _my_ newly born children? Than my _wife_?!”

 

“I wasn’t, my Prince, please! I wasn’t with anyone, I never saw this girl last night. I received no summons, no message, I swear it.”

 

“I don’t believe you!” Rhaegar roared so loudly, so suddenly that it made Barristan’s heart miss a beat and he startled Prince Rhaegon into fright, and to tears.

 

Rhaegar took a deep breath and took his nephew from his Mother and held him securely and comfortingly, placing the little boy’s face into the crook of his neck to calm him, stroking along his small back.

 

“My newborn children could have died last night, my wife could have died as you were abed with another whore. You have broken your vows again, and only the gods know how many times in between where you haven’t been caught. You failed to answer my summons and you deemed yourself and your needs of higher importance than mine. I will not stand for it. Father, I want his head for this.”

 

“And you shall have it, my son.” King Aerys said, looking on proudly at his strong, oldest child.

 

“Your Grace, please. It isn’t true. It isn’t! I’m being set up!”

 

“By who?” King Aerys demanded. “Who would even try to set you up? Who would want you gone?”

 

“Prince Haradarian! He is trying to take my place himself, that is why he went to the Citadel.”

 

“Haradarian is grievously ill in his bed!” Ashara joined in, her beautiful, delicate face furious at the blame being placed upon the man that she loved, speaking up in automatic defence of her beloved Husband. “He was with me all night, from the moment we left this table last night. He has been vomiting and sleeping all night as I stayed awake to watch over him! He is still abed and he is not going to be moving for a long while with how ill he is.”

 

“He was very pale and he was sweating a lot during supper last night.” Queen Rhaella reminded King Aerys, who nodded.

 

“Haradarian could not have done as such, how dare you blame my sick son for your mistake. Rhaegar, he must be burnt.”

 

“As you say, Father.” Rhaegar said dispassionately. “He has tried to blame a mere servant girl for his actions and now he has tried to blame my sick brother. Who will be next, Pycelle? My Mother? Perhaps you wish to blame the Kingsguard? Oh, how about my twin daughters for being born two turns premature on a night that you were abed with a whore? Haradarian is learned, incredibly so, but he is not a Maester proper as he took no oaths, he couldn’t replace you even if he had wanted to!”

 

Ser Gerold came striding back into the solar as Pycelle was mouthing wordlessly in fear. Barristan noticed that he had a small slip of charred parchment held carefully in his hand and he clenched his jaw angrily. Pycelle was the liar. He had been caught abed with a whore again and it had once again endangered a member of the royal family and he had tried to cover his own tracks by lying and trying to dispose of the missive that Rhaegar had sent to him.

 

“Your Grace, I found this on the fire grate in Pycelle’s rooms. It is scorched on one side, but it is still semi-legible. It looks like someone tried to throw it in the fire in a hurry, but missed the flames.”

 

King Aerys looked at the scorched message and held his hand out for the little girl’s written message and he compared them before handing both to Rhaegar. The Prince’s hand clenched around both pieces of parchment and he turned burning eyes to Pycelle.

 

“The missives match!” He hissed. “You received my summons and you ignored them!”

 

“Seize him!” King Aerys commanded and it was Ser Gerold, as the closest, who grabbed and detained Pycelle. “Take him to the dungeons, he will be burnt at my command later today.”

 

“Father, we need to send to the Citadel for a new Grand Maester. I cannot risk my wife or newborns anymore and Haradarian may need one for himself.”

 

“You will do so immediately, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and he kissed his nephew and handed him back to his Mother and he left the solar.

 

“You are dismissed, girl.” King Aerys said to the servant, who curtsied clumsily and then hurried off quickly.

 

Barristan’s mind was reeling. He didn’t know what to think about what had just happened. Pycelle truly had ignored a missive from Prince Rhaegar. He had put Princess Elia and the two newborn Princesses in danger and almost two years previously he had put Prince Haradarian’s life in further peril by being abed with another whore when he was most needed. Barristan had witnessed that moment himself, having been the one to carry the limp and lifeless Prince Haradarian to the Maester’s chambers to find him entertaining a whore.

He was worried now about Prince Haradarian, he was worried about the two newborn Princesses and he was worried about Elia, who had carried the twin babes. She was not a healthy girl and she had barely had a baby bump at all. To have carried two babes was a very dangerous circumstance for a healthy, well hipped woman, for Elia, a skinny, narrow woman who was of delicate health to have had twins would have put her at great risk of death and Prince Rhaegar hadn’t even gotten an heir from it. If Rhaegar were to die, then the crown would pass to Haradarian and his own son, Rhaegon, would be heir to the throne.

He sighed internally, going back to his post with his sworn brothers, including the youngest member of them, the sixteen year old Jaime Lannister, who had been raised up to the Kingsguard last year, at just five-and-ten. Things around him were a mess, and with King Aerys in power, it was only getting worse.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

It took Harry two and a half weeks before he could even sit up or get up, but he still felt absolutely awful. He had been in and out of consciousness, drinking down the milk of the poppy, getting others to bathe his wound as Rhaegar helped him to feed their newborn daughters, sometimes latching them on while he was asleep or unconscious, but the milk of the poppy was coming through in his own milk and as it had done with a newborn Rhaegon, it was making his babes drowsy and floppy. He had to cut down on the poppy milk and endure the pain for the sake of his babes.

But today, for the first time, he was up on his feet and walking around a little. He was sickened that he had to pass his baby girls over to Elia to mother, but he had to keep up the farce and Rhaegar had promised to hand them back as soon as they reached the solar and he was sat down. But Harry now knew how Rhaegar felt when he had to pretend that he was just Rhaegon’s Uncle. It was a terrible feeling to be unable to publically claim your own child as yours. They needed to get rid of their Father and quickly, he didn’t know how long he could go before he snapped and shouted for all to hear that his two little girls were his own.

 

“Oh, Haradarian, my sweet son. How are you feeling?” His Mother fussed as he hobbled his way to the solar, his face a pale grey, leaning heavily upon poor Ashara, who was doing her utmost best to keep him standing.

 

“I swear I’m dying.” He whispered. “I see the Stranger in my dreams.”

 

“I won’t let you die.” Ashara said stubbornly as she got him sat down carefully.

 

“You have been wonderful.” Harry praised, kissing her soft cheek clumsily.

 

“Here brother, look at my little daughters.” Rhaegar said as he took the babes straight from Elia without asking and laid them in Harry’s arms, as he had promised that he would.

 

“Rhaegar, I don’t think he should have them, I don’t want them to become sick.” Elia fretted.

 

Harry was sure that his stony face could have killed and if his couldn’t, then Rhaegar’s certainly could have.

 

“I wouldn’t be out of bed if I was not feeling better.” He said icily.

 

“What are you to name them?” Ashara asked, playing her part from that morning, where she had helped Rhaegar to dress Harry and the topic of names had come up. They had spent half an hour arguing over what they wanted to name the girls, but ultimately, as they had done with Rhaegon, they had finally agreed on the perfect names.

 

“I was thinking of…” Elia said conversationally, but Rhaegar cut her off immediately.

 

“I’ve decided to honour my brother, as he honoured me with his son. They will be named Haeraenya and Helaena.”

 

“But I wanted…”

 

“No one cares what you want.” King Aerys cut in. “They are Dornish enough without Dornish monikers. Haeraenya and Helaena are perfectly adequate names, Rhaegar.”

 

“Thank you for the honour, Rhaegar.” Harry croaked as he held his baby girls closer.

 

Rhaegon, who was sat next to Harry, went up onto his knees to peer at them.

 

“Babies.” He cooed. “Ma, babies.”

 

“This is Haeraenya and Helaena, Rhaegon. Say hello.”

 

“Hi, babies.”

 

Harry kissed Rhaegon and sat back with the girls.

 

“I could take them for today, Rhaegar.” Harry said softly. “I’m not up to much, so Rhaegon and I are going to spend the day here, in the solar.”

 

“Thank you, Harry. That will help.” Rhaegar said, touching his head. “Elia and I are going to be busy today.”

 

“We are?” Elia asked.

 

Harry sent her another poisonous glare. He didn’t know what she was trying to do, but he didn’t like it. He looked to Rhaegar and he wordlessly told him to sort it out.

 

“Yes, we are going to be busy today and it is very kind of Haradarian to offer to look after the girls when he is only recently up and about. You will thank him.”

 

“Thank you, Haradarian, for agreeing to look after my daughters.”

 

Harry’s body stiffened and next to him, Rhaegar stiffened too.

 

“There’s no need for that tone.” Harry said through gritted teeth.

 

“We’re going for that discussion now. Prince Lewyn, if you could accompany us.” Rhaegar said as calmly as he could.

 

“I haven’t finished breaking my fast.” Elia complained.

 

“Yes you have.” Rhaegar said, hefting her to her feet and marching her out of the room with a hand on her arm. Prince Lewyn followed them with long, angry strides. He was not happy with his niece’s conduct either, Harry could tell.

 

“My love, do you want me to hold them, or one of them, while you break your fast?” His Mother asked.

 

Harry shook his head. “No thank you, Mother. I don’t want to break my fast yet. I will try some broth at midday, but I haven’t been up to eating much recently.”

 

“Will you be okay?”

 

“I think I’ll be just fine. I’m more certain of it now than I was last week, but then last week I was convinced that I really was dying and going to the seven hells.”

 

“Haradarian, my son, pick a member of the Kingsguard to stay here with you, I must go and listen to more whining of the peasant people.”

 

“If you allow, Father, I would like Ser Arthur to stay here with Ashara and I. I think I can handle two newborns, but if this active little warrior runs off, I don’t think I would ever be able to catch him again.”

 

His Father nodded, looking proudly at his growing grandson and he stood shakily. He took the rest of the Kingsguard with him, leaving just Ser Arthur behind for Harry’s personal use. His Mother was next to leave with Viserys and that left just Harry, Arthur, Ashara and his three babes.

He moved over to the soft seats with his beautiful little daughters and he kissed each of them on their tiny mouths.

 

“Ma, babies are sisters.” Rhaegon told him.

 

Harry nodded, very thankful that his son had kept that thought quiet until now. “Yes, Rhaegon, these are your two sisters. Will you give them a kiss?”

 

Rhaegon nodded and he bent forward to kiss one baby, and then the other.

 

“I wonder what Elia was playing at.” Ashara said as she settled next to him.

 

“Rhaegar will sort it.” Harry said firmly. “She will not get away with that, regardless of the fake marriage to Rhaegar or not. These are my daughters, not hers.”

 

“We watched them being pulled from your body.” Arthur told him. “None of us can deny that you birthed them. She has deluded herself with the pretence of being Rhaegar’s wife and the Mother of the Princesses.”

 

“Well she can knock those thoughts from her mind right now, I won’t stand for it.” Harry said firmly. “Rhaegar definitely won’t stand for it either. I could feel the anger coming from him.”

 

“You should have seen his expression.” Ashara said with a small shiver. “He was frightening.”

 

“He doesn’t get angry very often, but when he does you hope fervently that it’s not directed at you.” Harry agreed.

 

He settled back against the softly upholstered chair and he laid his baby girls over his chest. He smiled to see their jet black hair. He wondered if either of them would take his green eyes or if they would both take Rhaegar’s purple as their older brother, Rhaegon, had.

He smiled at them, as one, his youngest Helaena, yawned widely and chewed on air for a moment. He gently stroked across his daughters’ backs.

 

“They’re so beautiful.” Ashara told him, slouching back with him and running her fingers gently through Haeraenya’s black hair.

 

“I’m just thankful that they’ve both survived.” Harry said softly. “I was so scared when I found another babe inside my body. It’s no wonder I grew so big with them, but it does seem strange that I carried them both to nine turns, but I only carried Rhaegon to seven turns. I think it might be because he was my first ever babe and my body was not used to carrying, that or the gods heard my prayers and helped me to carry them to term.”

 

“It was a wondrous event.” Ashara said. “I have never seen anything of that nature before in my life, and I am like to never see it again.”

 

“You might. Rhaegar and I are planning to have more babes.”

 

“You’re going to have more after what happened with those two?” Arthur asked with shock.

 

“Of course, but not for a while. Believe it or not, birthing these two went so much smoother than when I had Rhaegon.”

 

“It must have been so much worse doing it with just Rhaegar with you and no idea what to expect.”

 

“The pain was also a bit more than I was expecting as well. I knew exactly what to expect this time around so I was naturally more prepared for it.”

 

“You said that you’d rather be stabbed and back in a crow cage during the labour of the Princesses.” Arthur said.

 

“I did?” Harry questioned, not really remembering much of what he had said during the pain hazed memories of his labour and birth.

 

Ashara nodded in agreement with her brother. “You did.”

 

“I would never want to go through captivity ever again, in fact I will make sure that I don’t, but, comparing the wounds I received while in captivity to labour and birthing, I believe that I would much rather be stabbed. Labour and birthing is a continuous, very sharp, almost throbbing pain and it doesn’t go away for hours and afterwards, you are left with the horrible pain of the stitches and the shock that has taken over your body for weeks afterwards. You can see it yourselves, how long was I down when I came out of captivity? A week?”

 

Ser Arthur nodded. “One full week once we got you back home and medicated and you woke up the very next day.”

 

“Yet it has taken nearly three weeks just for me to be able to stand up on my own two feet after birthing. I feel tired and weak, I can’t stand for very long, I can’t sit or stand without help and I am not anywhere near fit enough to look after myself or my children by myself. So yes, on that basis, I would rather be stabbed, but then I wouldn’t have my three perfect children, so I can never bring myself to regret it.”

 

“Are you able to birth because you were born on the holy day of the Mother?” Ser Arthur asked, sounding as if he had been thinking on the question for a while. “Is it the will of the Seven or the Mother herself?”

 

Harry shook his head. “We might never know why I was born able to birth my own babes, but if Rhaegar hadn’t found that prophecy, then we might never have found out about the ability. We wouldn’t have thought to try. So perhaps it was because I was born on the holy day of the Mother, but we would never have tried without that prophecy from Valyria, but one thing is for sure, everything we are able to do, all of the abilities that we have, it is all thanks to the gods, old and new.”

 

“Would you have loved him without that prophecy?” Ashara asked.

 

“It is impossible to say. I was only nine when Rhaegar showed it to me, I was too young for such thoughts or feelings, so him telling me could have very well influenced the way that I thought of him or saw him, or it might not have and I might have come to love him as I do regardless. But I know that here and now, I love him so much that only three other people in the whole world come before him in my heart, and those are Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena. I think he would agree with me that our children come first for him too, but that doesn’t diminish our love for one another, not to me.”

 

Harry smiled at his three children with the utmost love. He watched as Rhaegon, his rapidly growing and strengthening boy, played with his toys on the floor by the fire. At least he was sitting still for a moment.

Haeraenya let out a hungry whine and Harry was over his embarrassment of feeding his girls from his body in front of others. He needed the help and he didn’t care anymore as Ashara helped him to carefully slip off his tunic from the one side of his body, exposing his tiny, milk filled breast, and she helped his oldest daughter to latch onto him.

He lay back, relaxing himself and he just let his daughter suckle from him. She had no teeth yet, so there was little pain with the action except for the minute or so of uncomfortable sensations as Haeraenya sucked his nipple into her mouth with a hard force that belied her small stature and proved her ravenous hunger.

 

“Helaena should want to latch on in five or so minutes.” Ashara said, almost to herself as she looked at the baby girl feeding from his body.

 

He had long since stopped caring about anyone seeing any part of him. He was no shy little boy anymore. More people than he ever would have wanted had seen his naked body and in a worse condition than mere pregnancy or breastfeeding at that. He had been broken and slowly starving to death in the crow cage and numerous people had seen him in that state and they could never unsee it, no matter how much he wished that they would. So it had to be put behind him and he had decided to move on from it completely by being comfortable with who he was and what he’d been through and with what he now looked like, scars included.

Ser Arthur looked uncomfortable still, but he was too curious to turn away as he, like his sister, sat and watched as Harry fed Haeraenya, winded her and passed her over to Ashara before he repeated the process with Helaena, who had started whining as he was winding her older sister.

 

“Are babies sad?” Rhaegon asked as he looked up at the cries.

 

“No, my sweet love. They’re just hungry.” Harry said soothingly. “Babies as young as your sisters cry when they want something as they can’t talk.”

 

“Will we teach them to talk?” Rhaegon asked.

 

“Yes, my love. We will.”

 

 Rhaegon pushed himself up to his feet and he hurried over, clambering onto the soft settee that Harry was sat on before he stared at his sister feeding from Harry’s body. “She’s biting you, Ma.”

 

“She’s not, my love. She doesn’t have any teeth yet.” Harry chuckled.

 

“Oh.” Rhaegon said.

 

He reached out and touched Helaena’s face before snatching his hand back, as if he was unsure that he should be touching her. He looked at Harry shyly, as if expecting a reprimand.

 

“It’s alright to touch her, Rhaegon.” Harry said softly. “Just be gentle as she’s very fragile.”

 

Rhaegon nodded and he inched his hand back towards his sister and he gently touched her as she fed. He giggled to himself and he looked at Harry with a grin. Harry couldn’t help himself as he forced himself to lean forward so that he could kiss Rhaegon’s little mouth and his son screeched happily and laughed.

Harry smiled and he sighed as Helaena released his nipple and he was able to sit her up, propped against his shoulder, to wind her.

He laid her down in his lap, her bum to his belly and his knees supporting her head and he took hold of her feet and gently squeezed and rubbed them. Rhaegon bent over his sister and kissed her before he shimmied off of the settee and ran back to his toys. It warmed his heart to have his children all around him and he knew that no matter what happened now, he could never, ever regret his marriage to Rhaegar nor the three babes that they had had together.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry had written to the Citadel himself, after Rhaegar had told others that he’d done as such when he actually hadn’t, as he hadn’t wanted a Maester here checking on him and finding that he wasn’t sick at all, or worse, finding the self-inflicted wound in his belly. Harry had all but demanded that they send Maester Gormon Tyrell as Pycelle’s replacement, as an honoured favour to his friends in Highgarden.

He had laughed when Rhaegar had told him of how he had set up Pycelle to be dismissed from office and how it had led to the man being burnt to death by their Father. Harry had never really forgiven Pycelle for upsetting Rhaegar so much and causing his husband additional distress after he had been rescued from the Kingswood Brotherhood, nor for the ugly, imperfect stitches that would have led to him having several rather horrific scars, a collection of permanent reminders from his time as a captive of the Kingswood Brotherhood.

It was now a full turn after that incident and Grand Maester Gormon was settling into his new chambers and he had started on his very first day, declaring that Rhaegar’s daughters were perfectly healthy and insisting that Harry would be fine if he kept eating and resting, but of course Harry already knew that, being an unofficial Maester himself, as soon as he’d come back into his right mind, and come off of the milk of the poppy, he had checked his daughters over very thoroughly and he had declared them perfectly fine and healthy. He also knew that all he really needed now was lots and lots of rest, and to keep bathing his stitched wound several times a day, but Grand Maester Gormon knew nothing about that. Not yet.

His Father was now a very dangerous person, even more so than he had been before. He was almost childlike in his ways, as he had become very gullible and a target for all his loyal ‘friends’ who took advantage of his madness to their own benefit, being lavished with land, titles and wealth for their manipulation. Harry could see what was happening and he’d pointed it out to Rhaegar, who had tried to put a stop to it, furious that a member of his family was being played in such a way, but it had only made things worse. Rhaegar was now back out of favour with their Father and tensions were mounting once again. 

Harry had only just finished feeding his infant daughters when news of highborn guests holding a meeting with his Father reached his ears via a pair of gossiping servants. Panicked, he quickly found his Mother and passed her the three children, informing her of what was going on in clipped tones before he quickly raced to intervene at the Small Council Hall, where his Father and the small council were listening to a protest from House Baratheon and House Stark. Harry knew that there was only one thing they could have had a grievance against and it was about Rhaegar crowning Lyanna Stark with that fucking tourney crown eight turns ago now. It would not end well for them if he didn’t head things off and quickly.

He was correct in his assumption and he strode into the Small Council Hall just as his Father was screaming to have those present burnt.

 

“Father!” He called out joyfully.

 

“My sweetest, most beautiful son, have you come to watch the burning?” His Father asked in childlike glee, looking at him with weak, purple eyes that glimmered wetly, beaming with love for him.

 

“But of course! Nothing would make me happier.” He replied with false joy. He reminded himself that this was for his family. With Rhaegar out of favour at the moment, he had to do his all to stay in favour to keep his family safe from his own Father. “Oh, but Viserys was asking for you. He wishes to hear the tale of Balerion again, you have sparked his love of dragons and he will only hear you speak of them. How about I finish up here while you go and tell him more stories? I will not let you miss the burning.”

 

“Yes, yes my son, of course.”

 

King Aerys wobbled to his feet, gaunt, pale and underfed, such was his fear of being poisoned that he wasn’t eating. He was stoop backed, ungroomed and stinking. He was not even forty yet, but he looked twice his age and his mind was almost completely gone.

He shuffled off, only the Lord Commander going with him for protection and Harry breathed deeply, his face closing off and leeching of all the false joy that he had worn for his Father. He took the seat at the head of the small council, the seat his Father had just vacated, and he glared at the four men opposite him.

 

“What in the name of the seven hells do you think you’re doing?!” He demanded harshly. “Do you even realise the folly of your actions here today? Do you not understand how close all of you have come to being killed?”

 

“We only seek recompense for…”

 

“You would ask recompense from a mad man?!” Harry cut in angrily. “Do you have any wits about you at all? Do you not understand the sheer level of stupidity that you have shown just by coming here today?”

 

“My Prince.” Symon Staunton said calmly, making a gesture for him to calm down.

 

Harry grit his teeth and breathed deeply. Staunton was one of his Father’s false friends who was taking advantage of him. There were several of them on the small council alone, including Varys, Lord Chelstead and Lycerys Velaryon. He had to tread carefully here. He took another deep breath and he settled himself back in the chair.

 

“These are dangerous times.” He said lowly, calmly. “The King is as like to listen to you as he is to learn how to fly by flapping his arms. We live in constant fear of his changing moods and whims and here you just saunter in and demand recompense from him, for what?!” He demanded. “What could possibly be so important that you are risking your very lives to bring this matter to the attention of the crown?”

 

“It is pertaining to the damages done to my daughter.” Lord Stark insisted.

 

“For the damages done to her?” Harry repeated disbelievingly. “Such as what? Has she come to some sort of harm? Is she unwell?”

 

“You know damn well why!” Lord Robert Baratheon burst out, his face reddening.

 

“No, I do not believe that I do.” Harry answered mildly, placing one hand over the other on the table top and staring at the four men opposite him.

 

“Rhaegar…!”

 

“That is _Prince_ Rhaegar to you.” Harry cut in immediately. “You will address him correctly, as is his right.”

 

Harry rather thought that he could see Lord Baratheon swelling with anger, but once again his friend, Ned Stark, calmed him.

 

“Prince Rhaegar crowned my daughter, Lyanna, with a crown at the tourney at Harrenhal.” Lord Rickard Stark told him.

 

“Yes, he did.” Harry agreed. “I was there and I witnessed as such. Did the crown have a thorn? Was she somehow injured when my brother placed the crown into her lap?”

 

“No, my Prince, but it has done damage to her betrothal. We seek recompense for that.”

 

“I see.” Harry said, lapsing into silence as he thought deeply on how to settle this situation.

 

It was not for long minutes that he spoke again and many a man in the hall shifted uncomfortably as he mentally deliberated with himself. 

 

“Lord Baratheon, are you unhappy with your betrothal now that the woman in question has been…crowned by someone else at a tourney?” He made the question sound as ridiculous as it was. “Are you no longer willing to marry Lord Stark’s daughter because of this event?”

 

“I love her and I will still marry her!” Robert Baratheon burst out.

 

“Oh. But I was under the impression that you were here to claim damages for a broken betrothal.”

 

“The betrothal is not broken!” The large, muscular man hissed.

 

“Then what damages are you seeking from the crown if this has not harmed your betrothal?” Harry demanded.

 

“Rhae…Prince Rhaegar claimed her! He defiled her!”

 

Harry frowned. “Lord Stark, am I hearing this correctly, is Lord Baratheon right in claiming that my brother, the crown Prince Rhaegar, stole the maidenhead of your only daughter? If this is the case then you are fully entitled to claim a blood price for her lost maidenhead. Shall we call it ten dragons and put this matter to rest?”

 

All four men went red with anger at the insult that Harry had offered to them. He knew he should not have done as such, that he shouldn’t provoke the situation, but he also knew that Rhaegar had not slept with Lyanna and thus had not taken her lost maidenhead. He was also increasingly stressed and irritable because of his own situation of living in constant fear for himself and his family, especially now that Rhaegar was out of favour with their Father, but that still didn’t excuse his childish behaviour and he knew it, but he could not take it back now that it was said, he had to stay firm and stand by his words.

 

“Ten dragons is an insult!” Robert Baratheon shouted, slamming his fists into the table. “She is worth more than ten dragons!”

 

“Twelve then.” Harry said blithely. “I have a hard time offering you any more than that as you have already told me that you are still willing to marry the girl. You are claiming for a lost maidenhead and the shame that carries, not a loss of a betrothal or the loss of life.”

 

“My daughter is still a maiden, my Prince.” Lord Rickard told him as respectfully as he could manage still. His voice shook with supressed anger.

 

Harry over exaggerated his surprise at hearing that to the point of being comic, just to let everyone present know that he had already known as such.

 

“I had wondered.” He said. “I know absolutely that Rhaegar would not have touched her, I was wondering if perhaps she had had another in her bed and was just trying to claim that it was Rhaegar’s babe that she was carrying to put things into a better light.”

 

Which of course was another insult as he was insinuating that the Lady Lyanna was no more than a common whore. This seemed to be too much for Robert Baratheon to handle as he leapt to his feet and tried to approach him like an enraged aurochs. He was naturally prevented from getting within four paces of him by Ser Oswell Whent, who drew his sword and blocked his path with the tip of it.

 

“I meant no offense.” He lied obviously. “It is often the way of such Ladies who spread their legs before marriage to claim that they were ordered to do so by a member of the royal family to make themselves seem more favourable to others, particularly if they have bastard babes growing within them.”

 

“What about your own bastard babe?!” Robert yelled at him.

 

“I am certain that I have no knowledge of what you mean.”

 

“That babe of yours, Rhaegon. You claim him as legitimate but he looks the image of Ashara Dayne who you only married four turns past!”

 

“I believe that you meant to say that _Prince_ Rhaegon looks like my Lady Wife, _Princess_ Ashara whom I married four turns past.” Harry said mildly. “Yes he does, for the simple reason that my first Wife, Malana Maegyr, Rhaegon’s Mother, had a very similar appearance to the Lady Ashara. I have a type of woman that I find pleasing, full bodied, with dark hair and purple eyes. Both Malana and Ashara shared these traits and thus it is not surprising that _you_ see the similarity between my son and my second Wife simply because they both have black hair and purple eyes. But you see, your theory falls through with but a small amount of logical thought, of which you apparently lack. I did not lay eyes upon the lovely Ashara Dayne until I travelled to Dorne for the first time in two-eighty-one AC, when Rhaegon was already six turns old. How then could I have met her, gotten to know her, fathered Rhaegon upon her, without the knowledge of either of her older brothers or her younger sister, who would have at least seen her with me and seen her swelling with child and would have certainly realised that something was amiss when she laboured and then appeared with a newborn babe. Are you saying that after Ashara birthed my babe that I went back to Dorne to collect my son, to take him to Dragonstone, just to sail back to Kings Landing and then travel all the way back to Dorne with him again? Do you even think before you speak? Sit back down!”

 

Harry waited until Ser Oswell had prodded Robert Baratheon back into his seat with the sharp tip of his blade. He took several deep breaths and looked back to Lord Stark.

 

“If your daughter is still a maiden and still has the very same betrothal, then what are you claiming from the crown?” He demanded. “Have the betrothal terms changed?”

 

“No, my Prince…”

 

“Has her price been affected?”

 

“No, my Prince, but…”

 

“Then what in the seven hells are you claiming for?!” He demanded. “I have a million other things to be overseeing and doing as my duty as a Prince and you are here to waste my time and seemingly to throw your lives away all because Rhaegar crowned Lady Stark with a tourney crown! What do you even want?!”

 

“I want his head!” Robert Baratheon shouted out and Harry sucked in a deep breath to prevent the automatic desire to kill the threat to his Husband.

 

“You want the head of the crowned Prince of the Seven Kingdoms because he crowned a woman with flowers at a tourney?” Harry repeated slowly and clearly, as if he had never heard anything so stupid in all of his life. In fact, he hadn’t heard anything as stupid and he was forced to listen to his Father’s insane, daily ramblings and he still remembered his Father’s food taster suckling the nipples of Viserys’ wet nurse to check for poison.

 

“Yes! It is the only justice applicable to…”

 

“Justice?” Harry laughed. “Since when did it become a heinous crime warranting a beheading to crown a simple woman at a simple tourney? Lady Lyanna was not harmed, she has her maidenhead intact and there is no loss of betrothal. No damage has been done by my unthinking brother when he crowned Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty and therefore, your claim for damages is denied on the basis that no damage has been done.”

 

“So you admit that Prince Rhaegar acted in a manner unfit of his station?” Lord Stark said immediately, perceptively picking up on his words.

 

“Of course he did. He gave the crown to the first woman he saw without thinking of what he was truly doing. He was much too happy to win his first champion’s tilt and that was all he cared about at the time, not some ridiculous practice of crowning a woman from the spectators. Do you truly think that he would have crowned Lady Lyanna Stark if he had given any thought to the matter whatsoever?”

 

“Why didn’t he crown his own betrothed?” The quiet Stark, Eddard, spoke up for the first time.

 

“Elia had asked him not to if he won the final tilt.” Harry said easily. “She is not fond of attention and would have been embarrassed to have been put on the spot in such a way. To prove how ridiculous Rhaegar took the entire matter, he tried to crown _me_ as his Queen of Love and Beauty before giving the title and crown to Lady Stark. Rhaegar thought nothing of the mere gesture and on his part, it meant absolutely nothing. Thoughtless it might have been, yes, but it was also a harmless gesture and no damage has been done.”

 

“The insult cannot be…” Robert Baratheon started but Harry cut him off with a sigh.

 

“What insult? There was no insult, if anything you should be glad that someone else, particularly Rhaegar, found your betrothed attractive. The only thing that has been harmed by all of this is your pride and I cannot offer you a blood price for injured pride!”

 

Harry stood himself up and Robert Baratheon did the same, leaning heavily upon the table. Harry ignored just how large Baratheon was in comparison to himself, that was nothing new. He was of average height, perhaps just a shade under average, but Robert Baratheon was a huge man, well over average height. He refused to allow himself to be intimidated however, he was a Prince and he had six members of the Kingsguard at his back.

 

“This isn’t over! I will have his head for this!” Robert Baratheon raged.

 

“Enough!” Harry snapped. “I have heard your claim and it has been dismissed! You have absolutely no cause to ask for recompense from the crown as no damage has been done! You will cease this ridiculous claim and there will be no more talk of having Rhaegar’s head!”

 

“Or what?” Robert Baratheon challenged angrily and Harry drew himself up to his full height and stared stonily at the taller, more muscular man.

 

“Or what?” Harry repeated softly. He chuckled. “How about, for starters, I’ll strip you of all lands, holdings and titles. I will give your ancestral seat of Storm’s End to whomever I please, or perhaps even keep it for myself, and after that, I will put you and your brothers to death and end the Baratheon line.”

 

“On what grounds?” Robert growled. “The people will not stand…”

 

“On the grounds of treason!” Harry interrupted loudly. “You are asking for the _head_ of the crown Prince! Do you think the people will agree that your cause is just? The head of their silver Prince because he injured your pride by crowning your betrothed at a tourney?! Your claim is not only utterly ridiculous, but it is treason! If you continue to speak of this matter now that it is settled, I will charge you with treason, all four of you!” He added, looking at the three Starks. “Storm’s End and Winterfell will be forfeit to the crown and all males of your name will be put to the sword…or to the flame as is my Father’s preferred method of execution these days. You will leave and speak no more of this!”

 

Harry watched sternly, silently, as all four of them left the Small Council Hall with straight backs and a sense of growing anger, and he sat back in his seat and took deep breaths.

 

“That was very well handled.” Varys told him softly. “Very well done, my Prince.”

 

Harry sighed and run a hand through his hair. “It could have gone better and perhaps I could have showed more patience, but have you honestly heard anything quite as ridiculous?” He asked them. “Claiming damages for injured pride because Rhaegar crowned someone at a fucking tourney!” He laughed and he was joined by several others. “Of course Rhaegar could have crowned someone else, Ashara was sat right there and there are no doubts that she was the most beautiful woman in attendance, but why should he have had to? What does a tourney crown mean? What does a tourney title mean? A woman will hold both for a short time until the next tourney and someone else crowns another woman in her place. Is it worth beheading Rhaegar? Of course not. I don’t know what they were thinking. Would any of you allowed them to behead Rhaegar over this?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“No, my Prince.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

Harry breathed easier then and he nodded.

 

“What will you tell the King, your Father, about this matter? He had already ordered them burnt when you arrived.” Lord Owen Merryweather, the new Hand of the King, after Lord Tywin had resigned his position of office after King Aerys had stolen his only, able-bodied son from him by placing him on the Kingsguard at the tourney of Harrenhal eight turns before. That castle truly was cursed.

 

“I don’t believe that he needs to be reminded that this meeting has taken place. By now he has told Viserys several stories and has forgotten that anyone even came to see him. There is no need for four men to lose their lives because of this foolishness, not if they drop this matter and let it lie.”

 

All the men present nodded.

 

“I think that would be for the best.” Lord Owen Merryweather agreed.

 

Harry sighed and stood back up. “I need to go and speak to Rhaegar. If this matter persists then he needs to be aware of it. If the matter has been dropped, which I fervently hope that it has, then he will get a good laugh from what has transpired here today.”

 

He gave a short bow to the members of the small council and he left, the Kingsguard automatically following after him.

 

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Prince, but you’ve gone very pale.” Ser Barristan told him concernedly.

 

Harry touched his stomach to check for bleeding, wetness or heat, any of which may have indicated a torn stitch or an infection. He felt nothing but the expected soreness. He laid a hand to his head and he frowned.

 

“I believe that I may have another fever.” He sighed. “Perfect, just what I want, another sickness so soon after I’ve only just recovered from the last.”

 

“What has caused it?” Ser Jaime asked, looking at him a little fearfully.

 

Harry snorted. “Oh to see your face. I do believe that if you were not held by your oath you would actually take a step back from me. Fear not, Ser Jaime, I am not contagious elsewise my beautiful Wife would have fallen sick by now, or my son would have, as they sleep in my bed chamber with me and I kiss them both several times daily.”

 

Harry looked to Ser Arthur, who turned and got his sworn brother Prince Lewyn to pull off his mailed gauntlet, before Arthur put his hand over Harry’s forehead before touching his cheeks and his neck.

 

“You are warmer than you should be. Come, you need to rest. This stress has not been good for you.”

 

Harry was escorted by the six Kingsguard, into Maegor’s Holdfast and to the royal solar and he took off his own boots and laid on the soft seat. He laid there, quietly, ignoring the occasional clink of armour as the silent Kingsguard shifted slightly around him. He didn’t sleep, but he did doze lightly as he laid still and rested.

He heard when the door opened and closed and he heard his son giggling before he felt him approaching where he was lying.

 

“Ma!” Rhaegon cried out, having spotted him and Harry got a hard smack to the face for his trouble.

 

“Rhaegon! We do not hit the people we love!” Rhaegar said angrily.

 

“We have got to condition that habit from him.” Harry croaked, rubbing his cheek and easing himself up carefully.

 

“Are you well?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

“No.” Harry said. “My head is spinning.”

 

Rhaegar touched his head and frowned. “What medicines do you need?”

 

“Strong ones.” Harry replied as he held his arms out and Rhaegar smiled as he placed the twins, Haeraenya and Helaena into his lap. They were so small that Rhaegar could hold them both with one arm.

 

He picked up Rhaegon instead as he sat next to Harry on the settee.

 

“What did the Starks want? More volunteers for the wall?”

 

Harry snorted. “No, they wanted recompense for the insult you gave them by crowning Lyanna Stark.”

 

“What?” Rhaegar frowned, studying Harry’s face. “Surely you jest.”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, they came here to petition Father, for your _head_ , because you ‘defiled’ Lyanna Stark when you crowned her.”

 

Rhaegar laughed so hard that a tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it away with a careless gesture.

 

“Many a woman has wished that I could take their maidenhead and put a babe in their bellies with a mere look, but fortunately such a thing is impossible.” He said once he had calmed down. “Defiled with a tourney crown.” He chuckled.

 

“I couldn’t believe it.” Harry agreed. “I have never heard anything so stupid in all of my life.”

 

Rhaegon wriggled down to the floor and toddled off to play in and around the legs of the Kingsguard. He giggled and lifted his arms up to Ser Arthur Dayne and happily named him ‘Morning,’ as Harry had done when he was a mere boy.

 

“Morning, up, up!” He shrieked. 

 

Harry burst out laughing and shared a grin with Rhaegar.

 

“I’ve been here before.” Ser Arthur sighed as he bent and picked up the youngest Prince Rhaegon.

 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have such a memorable epithet.” Prince Lewyn teased. “That’s two young Princes who have believed that your name is Morning.”

 

“No one even calls me morning!” Ser Arthur complained.

 

“I do.” Harry said happily. “You’ve always been Morning to me, even after I learnt that your name was Arthur. If I’m talking to Rhaegar about you and I don’t want the servants listening in, I will call you Morning.”

 

“Do you have names for all of us?” Prince Lewyn asked suspiciously.

 

“Of course.” Harry answered, not elaborating.

 

“So, what’s mine?” Prince Lewyn asked as nonchalantly as he could manage.

 

Harry just laughed and grinned at his friend.

 

“No, you can’t do this to me. I want to know what you call me.”

 

“He calls you Pomegranate.” Rhaegar said.

 

“Rhaegar!” Harry complained.

 

“Pomegranate?” Prince Lewyn demanded incredulously as his sworn brothers laughed at him.

 

“To be fair you got that name when I was six.” Harry defended. “I’d heard the kitchen servants calling you a seedy sweet talker, so I asked Mother what it meant and she told me that it meant that you had lots of seeds in you, like a pomegranate. Of course now that I’m older I knew what the servants meant, and what my Mother was alluding to, but at the time it was a very innocent name for you.”

 

Prince Lewyn laughed so happily that it made Harry smile.

 

“What do you call me?” Barristan asked curiously.

 

“Dusty.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I was about three and you’d been training in the yard and I was watching you from Ser Gwayne’s shoulders and it was a very hot, dry day and you were rolling around so much that you were filthy. I could have called you dirt instead, but no, you got named Dusty. I don’t use that name often anymore.”

 

“I don’t even want to know what mine is.” Ser Oswell Whent exclaimed.

 

“I do!” Prince Lewyn chuckled.

 

“I misunderstood your name for years.” Harry said. “I thought you were Ser Os Well. So I used to go around calling you Ser Os. When someone first mentioned your family name to me it went something like ‘Ser Oswell Whent’ and I, in all innocence, turned around and asked ‘he went where?’ That was when others realised that I didn’t know who you were or what your family name was and Maester Mellciter all but forced me to learn the noble families of the Riverlands, focusing heavily on the Whents of Harrenhal.” Harry laughed.

 

“You were so sweet as a boy.” Rhaegar told him. “You were always singing and holding flowers. It’s no wonder that half the realm thinks that you’re secretly a woman.”

 

Harry kicked him. “Lord Dayne was mistaken.” He sniffed.

 

“Lord Dayne isn’t the only one.”

 

“Then, like Lord Dayne, I will put them right one at a time!”

 

“You may leave us now.” Rhaegar said, standing up and dismissing the Kingsguard. “Father and Viserys are in his bed chambers with Ser Gerold and Mother is in the garden.”

 

“Do you require someone to remain with you, my Prince?” Ser Barristan asked.

 

“No, if you put someone on Maegor’s bridge, we’ll be perfectly fine.” Rhaegar said. “I need to make sure my brother gets some sleep and this little warrior needs to sleep too.” He added as he took Rhaegon back from Ser Arthur.

 

“No!” Rhaegon said immediately. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

 

Rhaegar ignored him as he sat down and instead forced Rhaegon to stay lying down, clamping his little body in his arms, his muscles bulging as he kept Rhaegon lying down and as still in his lap as he could while Rhaegon was kicking and squirming.

 

“You might want to leave before he has a complete tantrum.” Harry said as he cuddled the twin girls, who were shifting a little and waking up. They would need a feed very soon and the Kingsguard needed to be gone by then.

 

Rhaegon almost cut Harry off with an ear piercing shriek, which woke up both girls, who both started crying too, adding to the deafening noise in the room.

 

“Are you sure?” Ser Barristan asked over the noise, raising his voice just to be heard.

 

“Yes, off you go before you all get sore heads and ringing ears.” Rhaegar said loudly as Rhaegon kicked and shrieked.

 

Many of them didn’t need to be told twice and as soon as they were gone, Harry slipped his tunic completely off and latched both his girls onto a breast each, which shut them up immediately, and it left Rhaegar to stand up and pace with their nineteen turn old son.

Harry started humming, getting a tune, then he started to sing softly. Rhaegon’s cries hiccupped, then trailed off as he listened to Harry sing. It wasn’t five minutes after Rhaegon had finally fallen silent that he slipped off to sleep, leaving Harry to finish the song and focus on the feeding girls.

Rhaegar settled Rhaegon onto a different seat, covering him over with a blanket their Mother had made herself, before coming back to take one of their girls, hefting her gently over his broad shoulder and winding her as Harry did the same with the other.

 

“Helaena’s eyes are getting darker.” Harry said, staring into those dark blue eyes, with just a touch of purple. “They’re definitely going purple, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar sat back down and looked at his youngest daughter, who was mouthing along her own fist. Her eyes flicked up to him as he appeared in her line of vision, before she went back to looking at everything.

 

“You’re right, they are going purple.” Rhaegar chuckled. “She’s going to look just like Rhaegon.”

 

“Are Haeraenya’s changing?”

 

Rhaegar looked at their older daughter and he shook his head. “No, I still say that they’re paler than Helaena’s eyes. I think they’re going to go green like your eyes.”

 

“That’ll make things difficult.” Harry sighed as he handed Helaena over to Rhaegar and lay back, checking his stitches carefully, fingering them one by one in turn.

 

“Are you okay?” Rhaegar asked after long minutes of silence.

 

Harry hummed. “I believe so, yes. All the stitches are in place, none have ripped or come loose and there’s no heat or redness that might point towards an infection. I think I’m going to be just fine and these stitches can come out soon.”

 

“How do you know when to take them out?” Rhaegar worried. “If it’s too soon…”

 

“If parts haven’t healed when I take them out then I’ll re-stitch those areas and soak them with salt, vinegar and cloves. We’ve been through this before, Rhaegar. I’ll be just fine.”

 

“The fever?” Rhaegar questioned.

 

“Completely normal with stitches.” Harry assured him. “Look here.” Harry said, indicating his belly. “No redness, no weeping, it’s completely dry and healing well.” Harry pulled his skin apart, opposite ways from where his stitches had been put in, to show that the skin was already healing. “See, these could come out today, but I’ll leave it until I’m feeling a little stronger. But I really don’t want to leave them in too long, because the skin will grow over them and then they’ll have to be cut out, thus making more work and extending my healing time. Not to mention opening me back up to infection.”

 

“I love you so much.” Rhaegar told him out of the blue.

 

Harry, though startled, smiled happily. “I love you too. When are we going to try for baby number four?”

 

Rhaegar laughed, low and deep. A sound filled with happiness and male pride.

 

“Let’s wait for you to heal from baby two and three first, my love. Then we’ll see about baby number four…or egg number two.”

 

Harry grinned and nodded. “Yes, or egg number two. We need to find a way to hatch them, Rhaegar. Our ancestors have all tried using fire and it hasn’t worked, so if heat isn’t the answer, then it must be something else. Something that we’re missing.”

 

“I’ll go back through the archives and see if there isn’t a book, scroll or scrap of parchment that I haven’t missed.” Rhaegar said determinedly. “I just don’t want to leave you alone with all three of our babes.”

 

Harry snorted. “Especially not with Elia trying to take them from me at every opportunity. I can’t stop her if there is anyone around.”

 

“You are a Prince.” Rhaegar said firmly. “She is only my Wife.”

 

“But she is supposed to be their Mother.”

 

“She’s not, you are. If she tries to take them from you again. Refuse.”

 

“It’ll look bad.” Harry fretted.

 

“I don’t care. In fact I rather think it would amuse Father, which will keep you in his favour. It won’t be for very long now. We will be on the Iron Throne by the end of next year if my plans progress as I wish.”

 

Harry smiled and he pulled his tunic back on carefully as Rhaegar went and laid both the sleeping girls next to their older brother, covering them over with the same blanket. He came back to Harry and started touching him. Soft, gentle touches that relaxed Harry and made him smile, even as his Husband lulled him into a light doze.

They had it all planned out, they had their allies in their corner and they were going to get the Kingsguard firmly on their side. Jaime Lannister was the newest, thus the most likely to reject their idea, but then Harry reasoned, Jaime Lannister had no reason to love King Aerys, who despite raising him to the Kingsguard, the young Jaime had come to realise, as he and Rhaegar had, that it was to spite his Father and not to honour him personally for his talents.

As soon as they had the Kingsguard, that was it. Lord Jon Connington was firmly by their side, they had the Dayne’s, some of the Martell’s and the Tyrell’s too. They had Ser Myles Mooton and Ser Richard Lonmouth too, Rhaegar’s ex-squires who were now knighted themselves and had remained friends with him, and firmly loyal.

Harry sat back up with a yawn and he shifted himself around and rested himself down against Rhaegar, who smiled and swung his leg up, behind Harry’s back, so that he could lie between Rhaegar’s legs and cuddle into him more easily.

He was lost to sleep as soon as Rhaegar sunk his fingers into Harry’s hair and used his fingertips to massage his scalp and stroke down his neck and under his chin, over his jaw and ears and back into his hair. Everything was going to work out just fine, they had planned for everything…except they hadn’t and near the end of that year, in the twelfth and final moon of the year, Robert Baratheon started a rebellion that no one had anticipated and that they hadn’t seen coming and they were thrown into a full blown war that they had to fight and win before they could do anything.

It didn’t help matters at all that Harry had fallen pregnant with their second egg and just a few days after the news of the uprising came to them in Kings Landing, he had been forced to take to his bed and cut himself open, easing the egg out of his body and stitching himself up once again. The egg was locked in his and Rhaegar’s bed chamber, in a nest of fabrics to keep it safe and he had been forced to walk around with a newly stitched wound, every step a flaming agony as they prepared for the battle to come as they made plans, stratagems, and set aside the provisions that they would need for the coming war. They quickly called in their banners, their loyal families and their men. Then…then they had to fight. They had to fight for their lives, for their family and for their Throne.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We now get to the crux of this fic, and to the rebellion. There are a lot of warnings in the next chapters, for human sacrifice and a lot of deaths too! So please heed them wisely if you need to, but mostly I hope you enjoy this fic as I have writing it.
> 
> Chapter five has gone up and over 40,000 words now, so it’s another long chapter! But everything comes to a head now in the next chapter and it is the last ‘true’ chapter too. We only have chapter five and then the epilogue to go and then we’ll be completely finished.
> 
> So until next week when the next chapter is updated, I hope that you’ve enjoyed this chapter and will continue to enjoy the rest of this story,
> 
> StarLight Massacre. X


	5. 283AC to 284AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Extensive and numerous character deaths. Battle scenes. Blood, violence and gore. Human sacrifice. Graphic caesarean birth. Male breastfeeding. Child hostages. Mentions and threats of rape.  
> Last Time
> 
>  
> 
> Robert Baratheon started a rebellion that no one had anticipated and that they hadn’t seen coming and they were thrown into a full blown war that they had to fight and win before they could do anything.
> 
> It didn’t help matters at all that Harry had fallen pregnant with their second egg and just a few days after the news of the uprising came to them in Kings Landing, he had been forced to take to his bed and cut himself open, easing the egg out of his body and stitching himself up once again. The egg was locked in his and Rhaegar’s bed chamber, in a nest of fabrics to keep it safe and he had been forced to walk around with a newly stitched wound, every step a flaming agony as they prepared for the battle to come as they made plans, stratagems, and set aside the provisions that they would need for the coming war. They quickly called in their banners, their loyal families and their men. Then…then they had to fight. They had to fight for their lives, for their family and for their Throne.

 

Chapter Five – 283AC – 284AC

 

Ser Barristan was frightened. Frightened for the family that he had looked after for most of his own life, and all of their lives. Prince Rhaegar at four-and-twenty, Prince Haradarian at nine-and-ten, Prince Viserys at seven, tiny Prince Rhaegon at two and the tinier twin Princesses at fifteen turns each.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Queen Rhaella was pregnant and so to was Princess Ashara. Prince Rhaegar was off rallying allied forces from all over the realm while _King_ Haradarian took charge of Kings Landing. Barristan watched him with no small part of awe as the sweet, young boy that he’d known flourished into a strong, determined man right before his very eyes as he ordered others to do this and that, doing everything that he could possibly think of to keep safe Kings Landing, while simultaneously laying traps for the rebel forces to take out the enemies of his family. King Aerys was so feeble that he had taken to shouting out very unhelpful suggestions that Haradarian would nod to with a smile, before, thankfully, completely disregarding in his plans.

It had been King Aerys who had started this rebellion proper, after the oldest Stark boy, Brandon, had come shouting for all to hear that Rhaegar had abducted his sister, the Lady Lyanna, who had allegedly gone missing from her bed at Winterfell. Rhaegar, who had been at Kings Landing for the last full year without leaving, could not have been the culprit for the missing Lady Stark, if indeed she was truly missing in the first place.

When confronted and told as such, the heir to Winterfell had refused to listen to reason, that was when Prince Haradarian had once again stepped in to prevent his Father from burning Brandon Stark and his friends right then and there for the allegation brought against Rhaegar. Prince Haradarian had spared them and had spoken to them at length and he had refused Brandon Stark’s demand for one on one combat with Rhaegar outright and instead he had had Brandon Stark and his friends seized and Haradarian had had ravens sent out for their Fathers’ to come and collect them. That had been where things had gone very, very wrong, as King Aerys had been the one to receive the Lords of the heirs who were imprisoned in the Red Keep and in a move that would truly start the rebellion and send many of their allies running to the rebel side, King Aerys had killed all of the boys and their Fathers. He had accepted the demand for a trial by combat from Lord Rickard Stark and in a very dishonourable move, King Aerys had chosen fire as his champion and he had cooked Rickard Stark alive as his oldest son was forced to watch, latched into a Tyroshi strangulation device, a sword just out of his reach.

Barristan had been forced to stand, with the rest of the Kingsguard, his sworn brothers, and they had to just watch as Brandon Stark had strangled himself to death, trying to reach the sword to save his Father, who had also died. King Aerys had then had a raven sent to the Eyrie, demanding that Lord Arryn gave up Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. Jon Arryn had done no such thing, he had instead raised his banners and called his men to him, starting the rebellion fighting in the Vale, by leading his men against those who had refused to answer his call as they had remained loyal to house Targaryen.

Stark had gone straight to Winterfell and Baratheon to Storm’s End to raise their own banners and rouse their loyal men to fight. After that the rebellion had started in earnest and after the taking of Gulltown and the death of Lord Marq Grafton who had been a Targaryen loyalist, the Battles of Summerhall had been the first major battle of the rebellion, where three armies loyal to house Targaryen, (Cafferen, Fell and the family of their dead sworn brother, the Grandisons) had all been slain and scattered by the rebel forces.

Prince Haradarian had been so angry when he’d gotten back to the capital and found out what his Father had done with the Lords and heirs of several noble families, that he had shouted himself hoarse.

 

‘You can’t speak to me that way!’ King Aerys had warbled out after a particularly vicious tirade, his face a mask of surprise, of hurt and betrayal that his ‘sweetest son’ was treating him in such a way.

 

‘I’ll speak to you how I please you foolish old man!’ Haradarian had replied furiously. ‘You’ve killed us all! In doing this you have lined all of our heads upon a block to be chopped off one by fucking one!’

 

King Aerys had been so hurt that the beautiful son that he loved had turned on him so violently that he had demanded that Prince Haradarian be seized and imprisoned…but no one had moved. No one wanted to be the first to make the move that would lead to Haradarian the Heart being imprisoned, or possibly to him being burnt alive, and there was a moment of several heartbeats where Barristan readied himself to protect the boy that he loved like a son, even against his orders if he needed to, but like him no one had moved, not even a member of his brotherhood who were sworn to always obey the orders of their King, and it had become clear then that no one was going to lay a hand on Prince Haradarian. The young man had taken a deep breath, he had nodded visibly and then he had left, shouting orders for the city to be sealed and for as much food as could be found to be put into stores, setting up the city for war and people had jumped and run to follow his orders as he’d shouted them.

He ordered trebuchets to be made and placed all around the city walls and then he had personally escorted his Mother, younger brother, son, nieces and both Princess Ashara and Princess Elia to Dragonstone, where he had stayed for nearly three weeks while Rhaegar finished Haradarian’s orders in Kings Landing, while Haradarian made sure that their family was safe and secure and had escape options if needed on Dragonstone. Then he had returned in a blaze of shouted orders and plans, taking charge from his brother, Rhaegar so easily, so naturally, that it was if he were the elder one and heir to the throne.

King Aerys was done, as soon as his orders to seize Haradarian had been disobeyed and Harry had realised that people loved and respected him much more than his Father, that had been the end of mad King Aerys. No one listened to a word that he said any longer, he was just a feeble, withered old man and Haradarian was tall, young and strong. He had a solid, well thought out plan and people were willing to follow a man with a plan over a crazed old man who only wanted to burn everyone, and who had started this rebellion in the first place. Barristan was so proud of his boy, who was rapidly showing that he was no boy any longer, he was a man and a strong, intelligent one at that.

Barristan had been ready and willing to fight before, but now he threw himself into the battles, side by side with his sworn brothers and Prince Rhaegar, who was all but King now. As soon as this war was over, he would sit the Iron Throne. It was almost a certainty now that Haradarian had taken over Kings Landing from under his Father’s nose. It was very, very unlikely that he would give that control back once all of this was done. In fact, Barristan was sure that he wouldn’t go back now. He would give the crown to Rhaegar over their Father, but for now, Haradarian was the King, as he was ruling Kings Landing and directing the armies of their forces to where _he_ wanted them to be and Rhaegar allowed it without a murmur of complaint. He read every missive sent from Kings Landing and he would nod and then share Haradarian’s plan with them in a war council in his pavilion tent and there would be no arguments from Rhaegar. Others would question such orders, and some of them truly were bizarre, but Rhaegar would follow the orders to the letter to devastating effect to their enemy.

 

‘Haradarian knows what he’s doing.’ He would always say when others complained or kicked up a fuss over the newest set of strange orders. ‘He has three Iron links for Warcraft, if anyone can strategise a war, it’s him. You must remember that we, this army here, is but a small part of a greater picture that Haradarian is painting. What orders he gives us may not make sense to us, but coupled with the orders of the three other armies, it could make perfect sense. We do not question our orders from the King. We follow them to the letter with no complaint or rebellious disobedience.’

 

So despite the strange orders they were given they would still follow Haradarian’s orders exactly as they were written and the royal army was winning battle after battle, even if their allies were not fairing quite as well. But Rhaegar’s implicit trust and faith in his younger brother was unshakable, not even when they suffered a small set back and were forced to retreat did Rhaegar once question Haradarian or his orders, instead he rallied his forces and he waited. A messenger would usually arrive within four days on a sweating, slavering horse with new instructions from the capital.

By the end of that day, Rhaegar would have a new plan from his brother and he would call another meeting in his pavilion tent to relay those orders and they would be back on their way. There was no denying that the team that Rhaegar and Haradarian made together was formidable. They complimented one another so well, they worked together so amazingly well, that Barristan would have put considerable coin on Rhaegar asking Haradarian to be his Hand when this was all over with and Barristan had never been more proud of either of them as he followed Rhaegar into battle on Haradarian’s orders.

It was an entirely different atmosphere being under the command of Rhaegar and Haradarian compared to Aerys and it was an entirely better situation to be in. They had more confidence under the command of Rhaegar and Haradarian, there was more morale, a better sense of leadership and they worked so well together that there was more trust in them both. It made them all, every single last man, want to fight harder for their royal family and fight they did, following Prince Rhaegar into battle on the orders of King Haradarian.

 

283AC - 284AC

Harry breathed deeply and he tried to hold onto his temper as his Father once again hovered around him and criticised him and everything that he’d done thus far.

 

“You should have kept the Dornish bitches here to secure Dorne’s loyalty.” Aerys scoffed at him.

 

“Those ‘Dornish bitches’ are mine and Rhaegar’s wives!” Harry snapped. “And we don’t need hostages to secure Dorne, they are already loyal to us.”

 

Harry stared hard at the massive map spread on the huge banquet table in front of him and he mumbled under his breath as he planned his next move. He had to balance out what needed to be done with keeping his beloved Rhaegar alive. He took no needless risks with his brother-husband’s life.

 

“You can’t trust the Dornish!” His Father told him. “I’d have kept the babes here too.”

 

Harry almost broke his fingers clenching his fist so hard. He was so very glad that he had taken the courage from those around him to seize control from his Father. When no one had moved to imprison him when his Father had ordered it, he had immediately seized the crown, and the control of the capital and their bannermen and armies, for himself and Rhaegar. If he hadn’t done as such when he had done so, then there was no telling what might have happened. He might have been assassinated on his Father’s orders already. Ashara and Elia would have been kept here at the capital, as needless hostages against their families and his children, his sweet, innocent babes, would be here too, kept as hostages by his Father, most likely to keep him and Rhaegar in line too, or perhaps just Rhaegar if he’d already been taken out and sent into the arms of the Stranger by an assassin.  

 

“There is no need for women or babes to be here.” He said through gritted teeth. “If Kings Landing is attacked, and I fear that it will be, then they would be needlessly put in danger! They’re all safer on Dragonstone, away from the mainland.”

 

Harry touched his pregnant belly and he cursed himself for a fool as he had slept with Rhaegar the night before his Husband had left to lead the royal army into battle five turns before. He had prayed for just another egg, their third egg, but he had no such luck. He was pregnant with their fourth babe and there was a full blown war going on up and down the length and breadth of the Seven Kingdoms.

 

“I’d have kept the Lannister boy here too.” His Father sneered at him.

 

“Whatever for?” Harry demanded, rapidly losing patience, as he often did during such an advanced pregnancy.

 

“To tie up Lannister’s hands.”

 

“Another hostage?” Harry scoffed. “We do not need hostages to secure the loyalty of our own forces, we already have it. Tywin Lannister is being held at bay by indecision because his son is out there fighting for _us_! Jaime is a brilliant warrior and swordsman and he is fighting side by side with Rhaegar, killing the rebel forces. That’s what we need him to be doing, fighting and killing, not loitering around the Red Keep like a shade being of no use to anyone.”

 

“I need my Kingsguard! I need protection!”

 

“From what?” Harry snapped.

 

“My enemies are all around me.”

 

Harry sighed tiredly. “No one wants to kill you, you’re nothing.”

 

“I am the King!”

 

“No, old man. I am the King!” Harry snapped. “That is why no one is listening to you and why _I_ have a guard and the city watch around me! Why don’t you go and sulk in your bed chambers again and leave this war to me.”

 

“You insolent little boy, I will have you burnt as a bastard!”

 

“You can’t do anything to me now!” Harry shouted back at him and his shouts brought Lord Connington, the new Hand of the King, running to him with several guardsmen.

 

“Seize him!” Aerys roared, pointing his nine inch long fingernails at him. “I want him burnt, here, right in front of me!”

 

Harry shook his head. “Just ignore him.” He sighed, turning and going back to the map.

 

“Where are the allied forces?” Jon asked, ignoring the raging, spluttering Aerys and coming to look at the map with him.

 

“Here, here, here and here.” Harry said pointing the four armies out, also ignoring his raging Father. “Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime are with Rhaegar here. I’ve got Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn with their force here and Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor are leading their forces here. Lord Mace has just sent word that he and Lord Tarly have smashed Robert’s forces at Ashford, but Baratheon ran with what was left of his men, heading north. We received the traitor, Lord Cafferen’s head as a gift from the battle at Ashford, I had it put on a spike on Traitor’s Walk.”

 

Harry paused while he looked critically at the map, before he laid his finger on one part, pointing it out to Jon.

 

“Our last intel puts Baratheon here moving north and Stark here, coming down south with his force from the north. They’ll meet in this area if they both keep to a good pace.” Harry said pointing to a new point on the map. “But Lord Mace said that Baratheon was injured, he’ll want to get away from Lord Mace’s host and he’ll want to hide. I think he’ll try to get as far north as he can to reach Stark first, that’ll put him about here. I need to send a raven to Ser Gerold and have his forces move to Harrenhal to try and cut him off and I want Lord Mace to lay siege to Storm’s End to put pressure on Baratheon with the threat of harm to his two younger brothers.”

 

Grand Maester Gormon wrote down his instructions before showing Harry the missives, receiving a nod, before he left to send the missives via messengers on horseback out to their respective battlefields.

 

Harry thought hard and he stared at the map so hard that his head throbbed with the strain. He thought of the gift that he was making for Rhaegar and he couldn’t see any other way around it. He couldn’t exactly ride out himself while five turns pregnant and he didn’t trust anyone else with such a precious, valuable gift as all the members of the Kingsguard were out in the field too. There was only one other option left.  

 

“I need Rhaegar back here.” Harry sighed. “As soon as can be managed.”

 

“Is that wise, your Grace? To take him from the field?” Lord Jon asked him, sending him a look. He was likely wondering if Harry wanted him back here because they were Husbands, but it wasn’t. Not entirely.

 

“Only for a small while. It’ll be a flighty visit and he’ll be back to the field of battle. I have something for him and it can’t wait.”

 

Lord Jon nodded, looking down at his pregnant belly fleetingly. “I will inform Grand Maester Gormon. Will you be okay?” He asked, looking behind Harry to the still muttering and gesturing Aerys.

 

Harry looked at the rambling, hunched man and he sighed. “I’ll be fine, that missive needs to reach Rhaegar as soon as possible, Jon. Make sure he understands that it is of the utmost importance that he gets here as soon as he can.”

 

“I will, your Grace.” Lord Jon told him and Harry smiled at the added title, he was getting used to it rather quickly and he found that he enjoyed it too.

 

He turned back to the map and he swallowed hard. This stress wasn’t good for his growing babe but it couldn’t be helped. He could barely sleep, he couldn’t relax and he hated being away from his three children. His two girls would be growing by the day without him or Rhaegar there to see them and their Rhaegon would be three years old in just a few turns and unless Rhaegar and his forces could strike a decisive blow, then they were both like to miss their son’s name day too. That hurt his heart.

 

“I am the King!”

 

Harry about jumped out of his skin at the loud shout and he whipped around, his heart racing and his belly rolling over with fright.

 

“Will you piss off?!” Harry roared. “Get him out of my sight!”

 

Two of Harry’s guards leapt to do his bidding and they ushered Aerys Targaryen out of the room and left Harry to brood over the map of Westeros in peace. He wished that he knew how to hatch the five dragon eggs he had here with him, but he had tried everything that he could think of to hatch the eggs that he had brought back from Dragonstone with him, all to no avail.

He sighed heavily, feeling as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders, and in a way it was. If he and Rhaegar failed, then their entire family would fall and their world would come crashing down around them.

He hit his own forehead with the side of his fist and he growled, trying to think of something else to do that would help in any way, even if it was something small, anything that could help them to succeed was needed.

 

“Your Grace, you need to eat.” Lord Jon told him, handing over a bowl of meat and vegetable soup. Harry hadn’t even realised that he’d come back into the room with him.

 

Harry nodded resignedly and he sat down for a moment, taking the weight off of his throbbing feet and he took the bowl from Jon. He ate in silence, repeatedly lifting the spoon to his mouth to eat almost as an automatic reflex. Perhaps a small break would give him some inspiration or an indication as to what else he could do to help in the war effort, not to mention his growing babe who needed nourishment regardless of whether Harry felt like eating or not.

The very first thing that he had done when he had taken charge of Kings Landing from his Father was to seal the city and get as much food into storage as possible, just in case they were cut off from supplies or put under siege. He had forbade anyone to eat more than they strictly needed and he led by example, breaking his fast on barley porridge, lunching on soup and then having a small supper of roasted meat or fish, vegetables and bread. Everything he was eating was offered to the smallfolk of Kings Landing and so far there had been little change to the morale of the city.

Of course they all knew that war was upon them, if the ban from leaving the city wasn’t enough then the eight massive trebuchets that Harry had had built and placed strategically around the city walls certainly would have been enough of an indication. They were being protected and looked after by the city gold cloaks and Harry had more and more missiles made by the able-bodied smallfolk each day, stocking up for when he would need them and at the same time keeping the men busy and off of their raging thoughts, letting them actually do something physical, something that made them feel like they were a part of the war effort and not merely imprisoned in their own city. It helped to keep their tempers and aggressions at bay, kept them physically tired and kept them involved in what was happening, thus everything was calm and quiet in the city as they prepared for war.

 

“How is the babe today?” Jon whispered as he ate his own soup beside him.

 

Harry pressed a hand to his belly and he bit his lip worriedly. “Still.” He said. “Very still. I haven’t felt any movement for a time. I don’t know what it means, but I do know that all of this stress is very bad for the babe.”

 

“Rhaegar will win.” Jon said convincingly and Harry gave him a small smile.

 

“ _We_ will win.” He corrected. “All of us working together towards the same end. We will beat back this rebellion and then all loyal men will be rewarded.”

 

“And that is why you are King and I am your follower.” Lord Jon laughed. “You know how to speak in a way as to make people _want_ to follow you. They want to be near you and they want to fight for you.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, he was slightly embarrassed to have such a thing pointed out to him, and a little bit pleased too, so he finished his soup instead of saying anything, before he stood back up, looking at the map critically. He felt a terrible headache forming as he strained himself trying to look at the map from all angles, trying to will himself to see anything that he might have forgotten to factor in to the plans that he’d made.

 

“I need a bath and several hours sleep.” Harry complained under his breath.

 

“I’ll have it set up for…”

 

Harry was already shaking his head. “No. We can’t spare the water stores. But some sleep might do me some good.”

 

He sighed and turned away from the map.

 

“If anything, anything at all happens, or any more information comes forward, please wake me up immediately, Jon.” He said as he rubbed his head.

 

“Of course, your Grace.”

 

Harry nodded and he went to his and Rhaegar’s room, swallowing at the sight of the twin cradles that he’d had made for Haeraenya and Helaena. They were empty and they’d been empty for a while now. It made his heart ache to see them, but he couldn’t get rid of them, he couldn’t remove them from his room, not even merely moving them into Elia and Ashara’s room just next door.

He sat on his bed and took off his boots, but he stayed in his clothes. He stroked his belly and tried to relax himself, but he was so very tense because of the war, being separated from his three children, from his Husband too and his little brother and pregnant Mother. Then there was the pressure being placed upon his shoulders because of his three iron links, the need for new strategies, new plans and for those to be successful, for him to always be one step ahead, always knowing what to do next and it was relentless. Then there was the daunting pressure of having sole control of thousands of lives, lives that he was playing with every time he made a new war strategy, lives that could so easily be lost if he miscalculated or overlooked even the smallest counter measures that could be used against him. Harry sighed heavily, then there was dealing with his Father too, of course, which was a daily chore in on itself. It was just too much.

Sleep did not come easily to him, his mind raced with thoughts and plans, his heart ached with loss for his children, for his Rhaegar, and he laid awake for hours before he finally fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep. He didn’t wake up again until late morning of the next day, there had been no messenger, no ravens, no news while he’d been asleep, which was a blessing really. He hadn’t had an uninterrupted sleep like that one in weeks and he had definitely needed it, even if he had been a little restless and fitful at times.

He just had a few more things to complete before Rhaegar arrived back to Kings Landing. He had been collecting Valyrian steel for years now, since his youth, to realise his desire of bringing back a Valyrian steel blade to his family. He didn’t have enough Valyrian steel to complete the sword, no matter that he’d been collecting for years, a decade even. He fingered the links on his Maester’s chain and he sighed, slipping it over his head and turning it to look at the four Valyrian steel links. They wouldn’t add much, but every added inch of Valyrian steel would be a benefit.

He moved from his bed chamber and he waved away the guards who tried to follow him, heading straight to the cellars of the Red Keep. He unlocked a door deep in the cellar. It was the heat from the room that hit him first, from the one bubbling cauldron of liquid Valyrian steel and a second, red hot cauldron that was empty, but still heated. It had to be kept excruciatingly hot to keep the steel liquid and he only had one chance to succeed at this.

Never had he wished more that he’d done more for learning smithing while at the Citadel. He only had the one pale steel link, he knew enough to have earnt it, but he was not all that confident. Though no matter how many pale steel links he earned no Archmaester would have been able to tell him how to work with Valyrian steel, the art was lost. There were those who could reforge Valyrian steel swords into another Valyrian steel sword, but there were none who could make a Valyrian steel sword from actual Valyrian steel, which is all that Harry had to work with as he slipped his four links into the molten steel and watched them be swallowed up by the liquid steel.

He had put in as much Valyrian steel as he’d had to hand now, every last scrap of it, except for one piece. The dagger that Rhaegar had given to him for his sixteenth name day. He refused to part from it and the small blade wouldn’t give enough to make much of a difference. His links meant little to him, his dagger meant much and more because it had been a gift from Rhaegar.

He made sure that there was enough charcoal under each cauldron before he turned and made sure that everything was set up for when he forged the sword. The mould he had carved out himself was lying on a table next to the bubbling cauldron and he checked it for the hundredth time, making sure that there were no nicks or bumps in the mould that would compromise the integrity of the sword once it was forged, he made sure that his measurements were perfect and he checked the length of the blade. It would be shorter than a normal sword, but that couldn’t be helped as he had no more steel to use and he would not mix metals and make the sword impure and weaker, just for the sake of a bit of added length. He had already carved the beautiful, intricate hilt out of dragonbone taken from one of the dragon skulls. He felt dirty for having carved out parts of his ancestors’ dragons, but he had used the skull of the very last dragon. The small, sickly, stunted one. He would never have even entertained the dreams of using the bone of Meraxes, Vhagar or Balerion the Black Dread, his respect for them was just too great.

He had been folding the molten metal often, tipping it from one red hot cauldron to a second red hot cauldron and he’d been forcing the connection that he had with the godswood to imbue the molten metal with the energy that he felt in the godswood. He didn’t know if it would be the same as how true Valyrians’ made their steel before the Doom, but he had no way of knowing, but he reasoned that he had to have this energy, this form of magic, for a reason and he knew that Valyrian steel couldn’t be made because it needed magic to make it stronger, to make it true Valyrian steel. He hoped that he was doing it right, that he was making a true Valyrian steel sword or this was all for nought.

It was exhausting and draining to do this, because it usually took hours of sitting in a godswood to gain the connection, but forcing it as he was, it was unnatural and it didn’t come easy, but it was doable if he forced himself to concentrate on the feeling that he had whenever he was in the godswood. He had been spending a lot of time in the godswood recently, begging the gods to keep Rhaegar safe, to keep his family safe, and it was in such a full bloom that the smell of dragon’s breath was all over the Red Keep and every single flower and tree was in bloom and at the peak pinnacle of life. It was beautiful and the energy, the magic he held, came so much quicker, so much easier when he went there these days that he was actually slipping into light trances and seeing images and flickers as he dreamt. He was convinced that these dreams were sent to him by the gods and it was those images that he was following as he made the Valyrian steel sword.

He got to work for the morning, folding the steel over on itself by pouring it from one red hot cauldron to another, using his magic to lift the heavy, red hot vats to pour the steel and he sweated, concentrating as hard as he could to achieve this and when he could do absolutely no more and his concentration wobbled, almost causing the heavy cauldron of molten steel to tip, he had to stop and catch his breath. His chest felt like it was being crushed and he gasped for every breath, swiping his forehead with his arm. He was pushing himself too hard and he laid a hand over his swelling belly. He had no idea the effect that this was having upon his babe and he was scared that the energy he was using was harming his unborn babe, who was so very still inside of him after his Rhaegon, who had kicked at his insides day and night, and his twin girls, who had to have been wrestling with each other inside of him from what he’d felt when carrying them.

He looked into the sluggishly bubbling mass of molten steel and he closed his eyes. This had to be done and he only had a few more days to finish forging the sword for Rhaegar. He couldn’t pander to himself or to his unborn babe, he just had to hope and pray to the gods for the best, but he couldn’t lose Rhaegar, not when there was something that he could do. He rubbed his belly, hoping to coax his babe into movement but he felt nothing. He pushed away his fears and his urge to start sobbing. This was for Rhaegar and it needed to be done.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry felt weak-kneed when he received word that Rhaegar’s host had camped under the walls of Kings Landing. He immediately gave orders for Rhaegar to be let through the sealed gates and into the city, and then for him to be let through the sealed bronze gates and into the Red Keep.

Rhaegar arrived at the Red Keep swiftly with the two members of the Kingsguard who had been with him, Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, protectively at his back. They were led straight to the Great Hall where Harry had set up his war council and spent all day staring at the map of Westeros.

Harry moved forward immediately and he embraced his Husband tightly and he almost started sobbing from a combination of his utter relief and his building stress and fear.

 

“What was so important that you dragged me all the way back to Kings Landing?” Rhaegar asked him seriously, looking deeply into the green eyes that he had fallen in love with, trying to find something wrong, something that had happened to him. He had been worriedly thinking of something awful happening to Harry or their babe, but Harry was unharmed as far as he could see and he was still obviously pregnant to his eyes.

 

Harry did look awful though, as he looked him over more critically, it seemed like he hadn’t slept in a full turn, and that made him worry deeply for his beloved Husband who was now six turns pregnant with their fourth child. His Husband could birth as early as the next turn and that terrified him, that his Husband could be forced to birth alone without him there. That he could easily lose him because he wasn’t there to help steady Harry’s hands. It kept him awake at night as he stared up at the fabric of his tent, wondering if Harry had given birth that day, if he had possibly gone into labour and had maybe died because he was away at war and not where he was meant to be, by Harry’s side. If Harry did go into early labour and then died as a consequence, then no force in the seven hells would be able to stop him from exacting his revenge upon those responsible for taking him away from his Husband’s side.

Harry looked Rhaegar over just as critically, with a more medical eye, and though he was filthy, bloody, muddy and he absolutely stank of stale sweat, he seemed fine. He was smiling widely at him, even if it was a little tiredly, and Harry smiled with him, even if his smile was rather tenuous and forced in return.

 

“I have a present for you.” Harry told him in a croak, his throat very sore from working so closely to the heat of his ramshackle forge that wasn’t properly ventilated.

 

“And it couldn’t have waited until after the war?”

 

Harry laughed bitterly. “No, it’s a present _for_ the war.” He said seriously.

 

He turned to the table that the map was laid on. He lifted the present, that he’d covered with a cloth and that he’d placed near at hand, so that he could keep his eyes on it at all times just to ensure that it couldn’t go missing, and the distinctive shape of a sword was visible as he turned and held it out to his brother-husband.

 

“A new sword?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

 

“Not just any sword.” Harry replied with a tired smile.

 

Rhaegar pulled the cloth off and he gasped as the dark, rippled blade was exposed to the light streaming through the windows.

 

“A Valyrian steel blade. Where did you even get this?” Rhaegar asked breathlessly as he picked it up reverently and swung it around carefully, testing it in his grip, for its balance and weight. “Is this hilt dragonbone? Did _you_ make this?”

 

“I made it for you. It’s perfectly balanced for your grip, the handle fits perfectly for your hands and it’s suited for your style. Everyone forgets that I studied smithing at the Citadel, I know well how to forge a sword. The only thing really wrong with this particular sword is that it’s slightly shorter than it should be. I ran out of Valyrian steel.”

 

Rhaegar’s head snapped up and he automatically looked at Harry’s Maester chain, which was several links shorter than it had used to be. “You used your own Valyrian steel links? Harry, I said that you shouldn’t.”

 

“I didn’t get enough steel in time and I didn’t want to use the dagger that you bought for my sixteenth name day.” Harry smiled. “I don’t mind losing the four Valyrian steel links.”

 

“You earned those links through hard work, intelligence and pain!”

 

“And now a small piece of me will be with you, in that blade.” Harry smiled.

 

“How did you get enough Valyrian steel?” Jaime Lannister asked as he all but devoured the blade with his gaze. The Lannister ancestral sword, Brightroar, had gone missing with King Tommen the second, before Aegon had conquered Westeros, when he had sailed to Valyria after the Doom to search for wealth and the secrets of the Valyrian Freehold. He had never returned.

 

“I bought as much Valyrian steel as I could find, daggers, brooches, amulets, jewellery anything made from Valyrian steel from all over Westeros and I even sent envoys to Essos for any scrap Valyrian steel, and broken pieces too. I only needed the steel, so I’d remove the handles, the gemstones and such and secured the steel in a safe place. I’ve been collecting for years, since I was a young boy, as I have always wanted to bring a Valyrian steel sword back to my family, it was always my dream and now I have realised it. It is not quite a bastard sword, but it is lengthier than a longsword, so truly it is a bastard, bastard sword, but I really couldn’t wait any longer, the need for it was too great. I forged this sword myself, I carved out the hilt myself, just for you, brother. I finally finished it yesterday afternoon. Kill them all, Rhaegar and then come back to us.”

 

Rhaegar pulled him in close and he didn’t care who was watching, he kissed Harry, his Husband, full on the mouth in front of everyone.

 

“I love you.” He declared loudly and passionately.

 

“I love you too.” Harry said with a wide grin.

 

“What…what’s going on?” Ser Barristan asked, his eyes wide with shock.

 

“We’ll discuss the war first.” Harry said firmly.

 

“No, I want to know what that was!” Jaime demanded looking disgusted with them both.

 

“It is none of your business, you are a member of the Kingsguard! It is not for _you_ to question us about anything that we do. Remember your place!” Rhaegar snapped at him.

 

He followed Harry over to the table, where little figures, carved from precious stones, in the house sigils decorated the map, marking the places where the various armies were located according to the latest information that Harry had recieved.

 

“Baratheon was here, at Stony Sept.” Harry informed Rhaegar pointing to the carved black stag. “I sent Ser Gerold and his force to Harrenhal as Mace Tyrell had told me that Robert was injured and heading north. I knew that Stark was coming down south from Winterfell and I guessed correctly that Robert would go as far north as he could and then hide. I thought he’d get up further than Stony Sept, but he was slower than I calculated and I wasn’t too far off. Ser Gerold took the town by force, but Hoster Tully has decided to declare for Baratheon because his oldest daughter, Brandon Stark’s ex-betrothed, Catelyn Tully, has been married to Eddard Stark. She’s staying at Riverrun, but her new Husband also swept into Stony Sept at the same time, joined by Jon Arryn. They were outnumbered and Ser Gerold retreated in good order.”

 

“Was he injured?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“No. They lost several dozen men, but Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor are all alive and uninjured, thank all the gods. Their force is still intact and they’ve pulled back down, over the Goldroad, and closer to Tumbleton. I’ve sent them instructions to pull closer to Kings Landing, as you and your force are here too. I want you to both join up, under your command, Rhaegar. Baratheon is going north again, I firmly believe that he’s heading for the Eyrie because he’s injured. I need you to cut him off at the Trident, if he reaches the Eyrie, they can hole up there and we’ll never get him. This rebellion of his will be dragged out and we can’t afford to let that happen.”

 

“He’ll be closer to the Trident than we are if he’s travelling from Stony Sept.”

 

Harry shook his head in disagreement. “You have to remember that he’s injured, Rhaegar, and if his pace from Ashford to Stony Sept is any indication, then he’s moving at a half pace, he’s not going to be moving quickly and it’s not a smooth path from Stony Sept either, all you and your force have to do is travel straight down the Kingsroad. I’ve already sent a message to Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn to bring their force over from the south of the Red Fork after they’ve completed their newest task. They’ll reach the Trident first if I’ve worked this out properly, then if Baratheon arrives second, he won’t have a clear path through to the Eyrie, but you need to get there quickly as Baratheon’s force is bigger than Ser Arthur’s. He can’t be allowed to pass the Trident, Rhaegar. You need to finish him off now, while he’s injured.”

 

“I’ll get there and I’ll stop him.” Rhaegar promised viciously.

 

“You’re not going looking like that.” Harry told him sternly. “You’re a King now. I’ve had new armour forged for you.”

 

“This plate is perfectly adequ…”

 

“Adequate won’t cut it!” Harry snapped. “It has to be the strongest armour that can be found for you. I won’t risk you. This war has been going on for almost a full year, nine whole turns, Rhaegar, I want it over with before our Rhaegon’s third name day, we’ve already missed so much of our children’s lives, this ends now. Kill this would be usurper and end this rebellion that the filthy old man started!”

 

“I expected to see him, where is he?” Rhaegar questioned.

 

“He’s been confined to his damned bed chambers and kept well out of my way. He tried to set me on _fire_ the day before yesterday!” Harry said incredulously. “He hid under the table like a child and he tried to set my tunic on fire with a torch!”

 

“I…I don’t even know what to say, I’m speechless. Are you alright?”

 

“I was unharmed.” Harry said softly, lifting a hand to play with his Maester’s chain. “I confined him to his rooms after that, he was just getting in the way. He actually told me that he would have kept Elia, Ashara and the children here as hostages against Dorne! If Kings Landing is attacked then they would all be placed in needless danger. I’m not having it, Rhaegar. Getting them over to Dragonstone was the first thing that I did!”

 

“I would have done the very same, you did well by them. I’m proud of you.”

 

Harry smiled and he hugged Rhaegar tightly. “I just want you to be safe now, you’re in so much danger out there facing the enemy. Stay safe, Rhaegar and come back to me.”

 

“Always, my love.”

 

They kissed again and Harry swallowed, trying to absorb Rhaegar’s presence while he had it. He’d never feared for them before, not more than the usual crazed people who wanted to attack one of them for whatever reason that was, for whatever grievance they had against the crown or the royal family, but he’d never had to fear for one of them being killed. He didn’t like living in constant fear, lying awake at night wondering where Rhaegar was, if he was injured, had he been killed in that day’s fighting. It was agony.

 

“Did you write to my Father?” Jaime asked.

 

Harry nodded. “I did. All we’ve received from Casterly Rock, and from the Twins for that matter, is silence. They’ve either decided to remain neutral, or they’re going to pick a side when it looks like one side will come out as the victor.”

 

“Does that bother you?”

 

“It is not our place to question such things.” Ser Barristan coached sternly. “You are a member of the Kingsguard now, not a member of house Lannister.”

 

“It’s alright, Ser. He is young yet and new to the Kingsguard. He will learn to keep his mouth shut in time.” Harry said, staring hard at the young man before him, just a year younger than himself. “It doesn’t bother me, if they choose to remain neutral, that is perfectly fine. I expected it of Lord Frey, he has done the same with every war, rebellion or civil dispute. If they decide to join late, because one side has won a clear, decisive victory and the end is nigh, they will get nothing. No reward, no spoils, no recognition, nothing. Neutrality is one thing, being a craven and joining a war at the end is entirely another. I would much prefer it if someone stayed completely out of things rather than trying to pretend that they’d been fighting for the victorious side all along.”

 

“You have been doing so well.” Lord Jon Connington said, coming in with a few goblets of very weak, watered down wine, handing them out to each man.

 

“This is disgusting.” Rhaegar complained, even as he drank it down greedily.

 

Harry chuckled. “I am on the very same provisions as the smallfolk.” He said proudly. “What they have, I have. Our food stores aren’t even half depleted yet and everyone is eating well. There have been no price hikes, no fights or murders over food, the price of an apple is still three pennies. They don’t have fine wine down in the city, I don’t have any here. We’re all drinking very watered down wine at a ratio of three parts water to one part wine. But I wanted to show solidarity. They are suffering, so I am suffering with them. I am not feasting up in the Red Keep while they squabble over a rotted fish or wormy fruit. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“It’s true.” Jon said proudly. “We’re all eating the same and thus Haradarian’s laws are upheld and his peace is kept. The smallfolk sing his praises and hail him in the Sept as the trueborn son of the Mother herself. He can do no wrong in their eyes.”

 

“And our food stores are holding steady.” Harry pointed out with a smile. “Of course Father demands a feast every night and complains that he wants suckling pig and stuffed duck in orange sauce, but no one is listening to him anymore. Fresh bread is rationed though, to protect the grain stores, but there have been minimal complaints about that in the face of the larger threat of the war.”

 

“I have never been prouder of you, Haradarian.” Rhaegar told him seriously.

 

“I wish I was with you, but I understand that my condition doesn’t allow for it. I am more use here, where I can strategise and plan ahead and put my links to good use. All the information comes straight to me, so I can immediately work on a new plan to try and counteract the rebel forces.”

 

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Rhaegar demanded seriously.

 

“Yes, Rhaegar. I’ve been fine. Overly stressed and worried to the seven hells, but I’ve been eating three times a day and resting too.”

 

Rhaegar’s shoulders sagged with relief, but Jon ruined that small bit of relief.

 

“You haven’t been sleeping though.” He pointed out.

 

“What? Why not?!” Rhaegar demanded.

 

Harry gave him a deadpan glare. “Take a stab in the dark, Rhaegar. What is happening around us that might make it a little more difficult than usual for me to get to sleep? By the Seven you’re a lovable idiot sometimes.”

 

“You can’t keep skipping sleep.” His Husband told him seriously.

 

“I know. It’s difficult though, and most of the messengers I send out only travel at night so as to avoid detection or capture, so that’s when I get most of the messages back and then I need to act swiftly and send out new orders, I haven’t had the time to stop and sleep.”

 

“Can you try and get a bit more sleep for me?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“You being out there in battle is mostly the reason that I can’t sleep in the first place!” Harry raged, his Mother’s madness rearing up as quick as a lightning flash. Harry sighed and tugged at his Maester’s chain again, calming himself. “Yes, I can try. There are some herbs that can help relax the body and aid in falling asleep. I’ll see about taking some.”

 

Rhaegar kissed his forehead and he looked back at the map, where the ruby, three headed dragon that marked his own position had been moved back to Kings Landing. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted what Harry had. Baratheon was moving up north, where he would pass by Acorn Hall, and then he’d have to veer off right, past Raventree Hall towards the Kingsroad, then past Darry and then over the ford of the Trident by the crossroad’s inn (the only part of the Trident that was at all fordable) and over to the Eyrie, where he could hide out for as long as he wanted while he recovered from his injuries received at Ashford.

 

“You see the problem.” Harry sighed, pointing out the right fork at the crossroads that Baratheon would take to the Eyrie. “As soon as he gets to The Bloody Gate, then that’s it, we’ve lost him.”

 

“Baratheon is not a man to run away from a fight. He’s no craven and he’s hot-headed too.”

 

“No, he’s not, but he’s injured, Rhaegar. The wounds he has are going to need seeing to and camp medics can only do so much, he needs a Maester. We’ve cut him off from Storm’s End and Mace has it under siege, he can’t go there. He will never reach Winterfell in time and that’s only if Lord Frey opens the Twins to him and there is very little doubt in my mind that Lord Frey will join the war at this early stage, he is not a man to be moved into action when the outcome is so unclear. There has been no sign of Casterly Rock joining the war so the Westerlands are closed off, his only option is the Eyrie and the protection of Jon Arryn. We can’t storm it, we can’t take it by force as he’s recovering from his injuries, it’s the perfect place for him to recover. I suppose we could always hope that his donkey slips under his weight and sends him falling to his death down that damnable mountain, but we can’t rely on mere chance, we have to be sure. He cannot make it over the Trident. We can’t let him get past The Bloody Gate.”

 

“I understand, he won’t get past me. Not while I still live.” Rhaegar swore.

 

Harry took a deep breath and he pushed away the horrid thoughts that that conjured up in his mind.

 

“You need to leave at dawn tomorrow, but for tonight, you can stay here. You need to stock up on more provisions. I’ve laid those aside for you and your forces. Rest your horses and feed them up a bit and then you can cut him off at the Trident. I commissioned to have you new armour made that is much stronger and you have a new Valyrian steel blade. Kill Baratheon and this will all be over.”

 

“I want to see this new armour.” Rhaegar smiled.

 

“It’s pitch black and I’ve had the three headed dragon of our house done out on the breast in rubies. It’s very extravagant and opulent, perfect for a new King.”

 

“Now I really want to see it.” Rhaegar said excitedly.

 

“Your Grace.” A trusted servant that he was using as a messenger hurried up to him with a letter clutched protectively to his breast like a suckling babe.

 

Harry took it immediately and he slit the wax seal with his thumb, reading the letter with baited breath. He relaxed and moved to the desk that had parchment, ink and wax, ready to convey his orders. He wrote a short letter with a quill pen, folded it over and sealed it with red wax and a stamp that put his seal, two, three headed dragons side by side, showing that he was the second son of the King, into the wet wax. He would have to change that seal now. He was still the second son, but soon he would be a crowned King and he would use the sigil of the Targaryen family proper, one, three headed dragon in red wax.

Harry waited for the wax to harden before he handed it over to the servant, who bowed and then hurried away.

Harry set the letter in his hands on fire with the flame of the candle burning on the desk and he let it curl into ash, dropping it to the floor and grinding it out with the heel of his boot.

 

“Am I allowed to know what that was?” Rhaegar asked with a chuckle.

 

Harry smiled happily. “That, my dear Rhaegar, was Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn confirming that they’ve blocked Baratheon’s forces from heading west towards Riverrun. While not as protected as the Eyrie, Baratheon could have gotten a Maester from his allies there.”

 

“Why not let him get to Riverrun? It would have been easier to attack him there.” Jaime asked curiously. He just could not help himself and Harry didn’t truly blame him.

 

He had begged to be a part of the war effort and Harry and Rhaegar had allowed as such, they understood the need to fight, but despite the fact that Jaime was a very skilled and able swordsman, he did not make a good member of the Kingsguard. He could not follow the oath that he had sworn and he could not forsake his birth house of Lannister for their house of Targaryen, the house that he had solemnly sworn to serve on bended knee. Harry once again cursed his Father for raising Jaime to the Kingsguard out of spite for Tywin. There were many more deserving young men who could have been raised to such an honoured, revered position and they would have served them much better.

 

Harry shook his head. “The easiest place to attack him is out in the open, where he doesn’t have walls to retreat behind. I don’t want him seeing a Maester either. So if I can block him from getting behind any walls at all, that would be for the best.”

 

“Are they heading towards the Trident or staying in position for now?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Ser Arthur is leading the force towards the Trident immediately, as per my last instructions. Prince Lewyn is bringing me the gift that I asked for him to get in my last missive.”

 

“What sort of gift?” Rhaegar asked him, a flash of jealousy coming through.

 

“What is at Riverrun that I would want?” Harry asked with a pointed look.

 

“I don’t…oh. Oh!” Rhaegar laughed as he understood what was happening. “That’s very underhanded, brother.”

 

“I want this rebellion over. If I have to take hostages in order to do so, I shall.” Harry replied firmly.

 

“Hostages?” Jaime questioned and Harry shared an exasperated look with Rhaegar.

 

“Ser Jaime!” Ser Barristan snapped. “What part of your oath to hold your tongue until spoken to and to keep the King’s secrets are you finding such difficulty in following?!”

 

Rhaegar chuckled and Harry shook his head before answering. “Catelyn Tully is at Riverrun, she’s just given birth to a son. Lord Eddard Stark’s son. I told Prince Lewyn to sneak into Riverrun and take the boy to use to tie up Stark’s hands. Regrettably Catelyn Stark attacked Prince Lewyn as he was taking the boy and one of his men got over zealous. She was injured in the process, but it allowed them to get out of Riverrun and they are now on their way here.”

 

“You have Stark’s son.” Rhaegar chuckled.

 

Harry nodded. “Mace has instructions to take Stannis and Renly Baratheon alive too. If he ever completes his siege that is, the gods only know how they’re still holding out. Jon Arryn was married to Hoster Tully’s younger daughter, Lysa, in the same ceremony that married Catelyn to Eddard, but they have nothing that we can use as leverage, so Arryn cannot be held to hostage as we have done with Stark and Baratheon, so watch out for him.”

 

“Why not take Catelyn and Lysa instead?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Prince Lewyn is coming alone, he met back up with Ser Arthur and the small force that he took into Riverrun with him are on their way to the Trident with Ser Arthur. Prince Lewyn is coming with all speed here and he will drop off the boy and then he’ll race to the Trident and pray that he is not too late to aid you. Ser Arthur is going to goad and tease Stark that they have his son and hopefully it will put him off his stride. Nothing takes away a man’s balls more than using his only heir as a hostage.”

 

“Will he believe Ser Arthur?”

 

“If he does or doesn’t, it doesn’t actually matter because we do actually have his son as a hostage. However I am hoping that his lovely Wife will get a messenger to him, perhaps on the eve of battle, to inform him of the assault at Riverrun and the kidnap of their newly born babe.”

 

“You planned for all this to happen at exactly this time.” Rhaegar accused happily.

 

Harry grinned. “Of course I did. I do nothing before I’ve fully planned for it and tried to cover as many counter measures as I can possibly think of. Of course I had also hoped that Storm’s End would have opened its gates by now, they must be starving to death inside those walls and still Stannis Baratheon won’t open them. Such a stubborn boy!”

 

“Why are you surprised?” Rhaegar teased him. “You are both of an age together at nine-and-ten. You wouldn’t open the gates to Kings Landing either if you were in the same positon.”

 

Harry sighed. “You have the right of things, of course. Gods be damned, but things would be easier if Stannis was not as stubborn as I was!”

 

“He knows that as soon as he opens those gates, his older brother will be executed. Robert would do anything for those two boys, he’s practically raised Renly from a babe after their parents drowned.” Rhaegar told him. “Stannis would rather starve to death behind those walls rather than risk Robert’s life by opening them.”

 

Harry thought long and hard, staring at the map. “I don’t know if I should remove Mace from position and bring him here to protect Kings Landing or if I should leave him in place where he is.” He bit his lip and warred with himself in the silence as indecision nibbled at the edges of his mind. “No, Mace needs to keep the pressure on Storm’s End. If we give up now, it will give Baratheon a surge of confidence if he thinks his two younger brothers are marginally safer. I can’t allow that to happen, so Mace will have to stay where he is for the moment.”

 

“You still have Stark’s boy. Robert will see that babe as close to a nephew. He see’s Eddard Stark as his brother, probably even more so than he thinks of Stannis, who is his actual brother.” Rhaegar told him.

 

Harry nodded distractedly, thinking hard, his mind racing though so many thoughts as he discarded ideas and plans on his next moves. His mind strayed, as it often did, to his own family and his heart seared with pain at thinking of them being taken hostage and being used against him and Rhaegar in the same way. He would do absolutely anything, even give his own life in a heartbeat, to see that no harm came to his babes and that was why using family members as hostages was such an effective deterrent.

He had taken severe measures to ensure that not a single member of his family were captured or harmed during this rebellion. As soon as he’d been able he had taken the three women, his seven year old brother and his three children straight to Dragonstone to get them off of the mainland. He had left them several loyal men for protection and he had ensured that they had options if they needed them, just in case the rebellion went awry and he and Rhaegar didn’t make it and Baratheon won.

 

“I’ve sealed up Dragonstone and our entire fleet of ships is with them.” He said, putting his thoughts into words. “Our family is safe, it’s just us two and Father left here on the mainland and I’ve…I’ve made provisions for Ser Willem Darry to…to take Mother, the girls and the children over to Essos if…if the worst should happen.” Harry said past his thick tongue, emotion choking him at the thought of his and Rhaegar’s deaths, leaving his three babes all alone. “They have enough coin and several loyal men if they have need of them.”

 

“You’ve done right by our family, Harry. But it won’t be needed. We’re going to win this war.”

 

“I have the eggs too.” He said softly, looking up and into Rhaegar’s purple eyes.

 

“All of them?” Rhaegar asked.

 

Harry nodded. “I brought them back from Dragonstone with me. If ever our need for dragons was at its highest, now is that time.”

 

“We need them now more than ever.” Rhaegar agreed.

 

“Then it’s settled. Those eggs will hatch and our enemies will burn in a thousand flames.” Harry declared confidently.

 

He moved over to a large crate that was always near him, it was weighted down with incredibly heavy, thick iron bars that he’d placed in the bottom and covered over with a thick blanket and laid that over with cushions and silk for the eggs to nestle on. It would take more than a dozen men to even shift it an inch across the floor. He kept it locked always and he took the key from around his own neck and he opened it, taking out their newest egg, a beautiful sky blue with hints of gold and silver. He held it in both hands, kissing it lovingly before handing it to Rhaegar, who did the same.

 

“Ser Barristan, hold this.” Rhaegar commanded as he handed the egg over reverently as Harry took out two more, their ancestors’ eggs, the cream white egg with gold veins and the deep green egg with bronze flecks, and handed them over to his husband.

 

“How…how many are there?” Jaime asked as he looked in awe to the real dragon eggs that no one but the Targaryen family had laid eyes upon for a hundred or more years.

 

“Five.” Harry answered as he picked up the last two eggs. The final of their three ancestral eggs, the jet black egg swirled with red and his and Rhaegar’s first egg, the bright, untarnished red. “Five eggs, five potential dragons, Rhaegar. One dragon would be enough, my love, but with five of them, that would be one for me, one for you, one for Viserys and two for Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena to share. Not that they’ll be having one any time soon!” He answered himself sternly.

 

Rhaegar chuckled. “Have you had any new thoughts of how to hatch them, my love?”

 

“I was sitting in the godswood late last night.” Harry confessed.

 

Rhaegar gave him a look of utter attention after hearing that, being the only one to know what Harry had done in the godswood at Harrenhal and just how he had done it, even if it was a little difficult for him to understand. But he had personally witnessed Harry’s power over the godswood in Kings Landing once they had come home from the tourney. He had been watching, as Harry’s breathing became shallow and ragged, his body quivering and trembling as if he were on the edge of orgasm and he had watched with his own eyes as the power had spread from where Harry was sitting, forcing everything it touched into full bloom, forcing trees to grow taller and stronger, forcing insects from their underground burrows to come crawling over the lush grass that had grown thick and green, the same colour as his husband’s eyes, and everywhere, throughout the entire godswood, Harry’s favourite flower, red Dragon’s Breath, had sprouted up out of nowhere and was in full bloom, releasing its intoxicating scent to fill the air. The rush of power that he felt from Harry that night had given him such a thrill, such a surge of adrenaline and excitement, that they had made love furiously, like insatiable beasts, right there in the godswood under the gaze of the heart tree and the light of the stars.

He would never forget it or how he had felt in the presence of Harry’s power and he never again questioned Harry’s connection to the old gods or to the godswood. The power he had felt that night was unlike anything that he had ever felt before in his life, or would ever feel again, and he had known with certainty then that night, that Harry was the Prince who was promised, the one who was prophesised to be born several thousand years before in old Valyria. His brother-husband was special and he was very lucky to have Harry in his life, to have his love and devotion.

 

“What did the old gods tell you?” He asked, so very seriously.

 

“They showed me a dream. I woke up in the roots of the oak heart tree. The prophecy you found Rhaegar, it has the clue, the new dragon age will be born amid smoke and _salt_.”

 

“Our ancestors always tried to hatch the eggs with just fire…they never added any salt to the dragon pyres.” Rhaegar said breathlessly. “Harry…Harry you’ve found the key to hatching them!”

 

“I believe so.” A single tear of joy made its way down his smooth cheek. “The old gods have shown me what I must do, but I wanted to wait for you. It can be a belated name day gift for the both of us.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and he turned to Jon. “Build a pyre in the yard and get a bag of salt sent up from the pantry stores.”

 

Jon nodded, looking in awe at the five eggs before hurrying away.

 

“And so the dragon age will begin anew. A hundred and fifty years after the death of the last dragon.” Rhaegar whispered, cradling the green and the white eggs close.

 

Harry nodded, cradling the black and the red eggs. “They won’t be big enough for a war, but if you took one of them on your shoulder, Baratheon would shit himself at the sight of the first living dragon in living memory.”

 

“More than that, my love. No one would dare to stand against the Targaryen family ever again if we had the dragons back. We’d be completely safe then, our children would be safe when they’re grown and take over from us.”

 

Harry took a deep breath and he moved to the courtyard outside, where Jon was ordering the servants to pile the dry wood into a pyre. There was a bed of dry straw kindling covering the bottom of the pyre and Harry ordered a silk pillow to be placed in the centre. It was on this that Harry gently placed the two eggs that he was holding. Rhaegar placed his two onto the pillow too and Harry took the blue egg from Ser Barristan and placed the final egg onto the pillow.

He ordered a torch to be brought to him and, after sprinkling the pyre liberally with salt, Harry set the pyre on fire and he clutched at Rhaegar’s hand tightly, watching desperately as the fire took hold, the wood cracking and popping from the heat and they stood watching, waiting. Yet it was not to be, even at the peak of the fire the eggs didn’t move, they didn’t crack, their dragon babes did not hatch.

It took an agonising hour for the pyre to burn out and Harry was on his knees, sobbing into his hands over the soot stained, unhatched eggs, Rhaegar by his shoulder, comforting him.

 

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work.” He cried onto Rhaegar.

 

“You’re six turns pregnant, my love, please don’t stress so much.” Rhaegar soothed. “It’s alright, we’ll win even without the dragons.”

 

The two of them were alone, having dismissed Jon, Barristan and Jaime several minutes before when it became clear that the eggs were not going to hatch and the pyre was burning down. The sky was now getting dark and the stars were just starting to twinkle above them.

 

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work! The dream the old gods sent me ties in with the prophecy you found and…and…oh gods.” Harry stopped dead, sniffing hard, brushing his eyes clear as he thought of something that he had foolishly overlooked. “Build another pyre, Rhaegar, now!”

 

“Harry?” Rhaegar questioned concernedly.

 

“Our _words_ , Rhaegar! The dream had to tie in with our words! Fire and _blood_! Smoke was a euphemism for fire in the prophecy, salt is a euphemism for blood! The pyre didn’t need actual salt, it needed blood! That is why our ancient words are Fire and Blood, the key to hatching the dragons!”

 

Rhaegar nodded and he set to building a new pyre himself, with his own hands, over the ashes of the burnt pyre. Harry went to the door and grabbed a city gold cloak who was stood at the door.

 

“Go to the dungeons. I want a prisoner brought here right now. Find the worst offender that you can, one scheduled for execution once the war is over and the King’s Justice is returned.” He ordered and the guard nodded, a little startled at his sudden appearance and his strange orders, but he hurried off regardless. “RUN!” Harry shouted after him and the man did as he’d been instructed and Harry turned back to the new pyre taking form.

 

He was breathing heavily and he quivered, praying that this is what he had missed. That this would now work.

 

“This has to work.” He said aloud. His heart wouldn’t be able to take another heartbreak of a failed attempt to hatch his and Rhaegar’s dragon babes.

 

“It will.” Rhaegar said confidently as he picked up the eggs one at a time and cleaned them off gently with the sleeve of his own tunic. “It now ties in your dream from the old gods, the prophecy that I found as a child from Valyria and now our ancient family words too. It will work, I can feel it.”

 

Harry swallowed and he played nervously with the chain around his neck as had become his habit over the years when he was stressed, anxious or nervous. “It needs to work. We’ve tried everything else, Rhaegar. I don’t know what else to do if this fails as well.”

 

“The gods sent you a dream, Harry. They did that for a purpose. They are on our side, they want us to succeed, they want us to win this war. You have always had a connection to the old gods through the godswood. When you showed me the power that you had there, what you could do, I knew then that true magic exists within you. If anyone can hatch our beloved eggs, it’s you. I believe that you can do anything now. You have birthed these eggs, you have birthed us three babes and are pregnant with a fourth, you have forged me a true Valyrian blade when the knowledge on how to do as such was lost. I believe in you, my love. You can do this, just believe in yourself.”

 

Harry inhaled deeply and he nodded. The door knocked and Rhaegar went to it, not letting the gold cloak see what was in the courtyard as he dragged in the bound prisoner.

Harry took the rope and made sure that the gag was in place as the man saw what was in front of him and realised what was going to happen. He started screaming, muffled behind the fabric stuffed in his mouth that was acting as a gag.

Rhaegar, all muscles and strength, took the rope again after he’d bolted the door and he dragged the man to the pyre and he used the rope around the man’s neck to tie him down to the wood.

 

“Tie his legs too. We don’t want him getting up halfway through if the rope around his neck burns away before he has died.” Harry said and Rhaegar did as asked and he made the prisoner immobile, even as he screamed through his gag.

 

Harry grabbed another torch and he held it suspended, ready. Rhaegar came back to him and held him around the waist. His hand curled around Harry’s on the flaming torch and he kissed Harry’s neck as his other hand rubbed at their growing fourth babe.

 

“Together?” He questioned.

 

“Together.” Harry smiled and his and Rhaegar’s hands opened at the same time, dropping the torch into the wood and straw, setting it aflame.

 

Harry didn’t look at the man that he and Rhaegar had used as a sacrifice, he had been set to be executed anyway when the war was over, instead Harry stared at his five eggs, concentrating hard on his magic, willing this to work. Then the same feeling, the same sensation, that he got whenever he stepped foot into a godswood washed over him. The force of it was so surprising that he gasped softly, this was not the same feeling that he got when he was in the godswood, it was more powerful, more overwhelming, just more. The pressure, the inability to breathe properly as his lungs constricted, his breath coming faster and more rapidly. His fingers started tingling and he gasped louder.

 

“It’s going to work, Rhaegar.” He said breathlessly. “I have that feeling again!”

 

“The godswood feeling?” Rhaegar asked excitedly, holding him tighter.

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, but it’s different.” He replied breathlessly. “It’s building so quickly. It’s so powerful. It’s so much stronger and more of everything.”

 

He started panting harshly, curling his fingers up as they tingled so hard it felt like the skin was being flayed from them, and when the pressure became too much, when the flames were at their hottest and their prisoner had stopped screaming, having succumbed to death, the pressure finally broke and flooded out of him and into the flames, into the five dragons, and with a loud crack, the egg they could still slightly see, blurred by the flickering flames, split down the middle in an uneven line.

Harry stopped breathing, clutching a death grip upon Rhaegar as he saw movement behind the crack. He shook, quivering under the excitement, as more loud cracks signified the other eggs splitting and hatching.

 

“It’s worked.” Harry said excitedly. He turned to look at Rhaegar. “It’s worked! We’ve brought back the dragons, Rhaegar!”

 

Rhaegar picked him up and kissed him so passionately that Harry felt a strong stirring of arousal.

 

“ _You’ve_ brought them back.” Rhaegar told him gruffly once they’d broken apart. “This was all you, Harry. You are the one with the connection to the gods, to true, real magic. You are the prince who was promised, not me. It always had to be you, my dearest love.”

 

“I could never have done it without you, my silver haired rider.” Harry teased tearfully as he came down from the high of riding on his own power, of his own magic.

 

They both turned back to the pyre and they watched it once again, as it burnt itself out, down to mere ashes once more, but there were living things in the ashes this time. Harry couldn’t wait any longer and while the embers were still hot and the flames were still burning in places, he went digging in the ashes for his dragon babes.

He dug out all the bits of shell that Rhaegar then put in the large, empty bag of salt that they had used in their earlier failed attempt and then Harry reached the five baby dragons, picking them out of the ashes one by one and he cradled them tightly as they squeaked and chirruped, almost like newly hatched birds.

 

“Has your milk come in yet, my love?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

“I’ve been leaking a bit.” He said confusedly before he realised what Rhaegar meant and why he was asking him as such. “Oh!”

 

He tugged off his tunic with Rhaegar’s help and he held one newborn up to his nipple. He was surprised when the newborn dragon actually did latch onto him. Rhaegar held up the next dragon to his other nipple and Harry fed them as much as he could when they couldn’t truly suckle, they were just licking at his leaking nipples with their tongues, catching his milk. He had been leaking a little as his pregnancy progressed, but his milk hadn’t properly come in yet. They switched the little dragons and then the last one latched on to him on its own.

 

“I can’t believe it.” He said, truly not able to believe that he was holding, and feeding, newborn dragons from his own body.

 

“This is so amazing.” He carried on as the small red dragon clawed its way up Rhaegar’s back to his shoulder and let out a little cry.

 

Rhaegar immediately gave it his full attention, touching it gently, reverently, as Harry pulled his tunic back on, covering the bump of their fourth human babe.

 

“We need to get them inside, Rhaegar.” He said once he was dressed. “We’re the only ones who know about them, it needs to stay that way for now. It’ll give us a bigger advantage, a bigger surprise effect, if no one knows about them just yet.”

 

“Until the Trident?” Rhaegar asked him, looking away from the red dragon on his shoulder for a moment.

 

“Until the Trident.” Harry nodded as he cradled two dragons in his arms, he could feel another one clinging to his back and the fifth was in his lap.

 

“Let me grab this one and we can take them to our bed chambers.” Rhaegar said as he scooped up the biggest of their dragons, a dragon as black as jet, with red spinal plates running down its back and red stubs on its head.

 

“I think that one should go with you to the Trident tomorrow. He’s much bigger…our Balerion reborn.”

 

Rhaegar smiled to see the feisty little dragon, who was about the size of a small adult cat.

 

“Where is the fifth?” He asked, looking around in a protective, paternal panic.

 

“Climbing up my back.” Harry chuckled as he carefully eased his pregnant body upright, to his feet. He turned to show Rhaegar the small, dark green dragon clinging to the back of his tunic.

 

Rhaegar plucked that one off of his tunic and cradled him. “I’ll go first, try to keep them out of sight.”

 

Harry nodded, leaving the ashes of the burnt out pyre behind, cradling two dragons as Rhaegar took three and the bag of broken shell.

Rhaegar ordered away everyone who was before them, before they could see the dragons and they made it to their bed chambers, placing their baby dragons on the bed. Their newest, the sky blue dragon, immediately started climbing up the wooden bed post, digging in the tiny hooked claw at the end of each wing joint deep into the wood to pull itself up.

 

Harry sniffed hard as he watched them, brushing away his tears. “They need names.” He said, trying to overcome the shock at actually succeeding where their ancestors had failed in their attempts for so long. All because of the addition of blood, it seemed impossible to him that not a single one of his ancestors had ever thought to include blood when attempting to hatch the eggs.

 

“I think you got it right for this big one.” Rhaegar said, touching the head of the black dragon with his red eyes, horn stubs and spinal plates. “Balerion for this black beauty is perfect. Balerion reborn.”

 

“Xeraxys.” Harry said, pointing to the blue dragon who was now perched on the top of the bedpost like a sentry.

 

“Valaerion.” Rhaegar said, looking at the beautiful cream and gold dragon.

 

“How about Viserion instead? He could be Viserys’ dragon. White and gold, he looks like our Viserys.” Harry countered.

 

Rhaegar inclined his head in agreement. “Viserion he is.”

 

Harry looked at the tiny red dragon and Rhaegar followed his line of sight. “Pyrexian.” He offered.

 

Harry smiled. “Then our last one, our green babe. I want to name him Rhaelys, after you.”

 

Rhaegar pulled him in close and kissed him hard, stroking gentle hands over his baby bump.

 

“I love you, so very, very much.” Rhaegar declared.

 

Harry swallowed. “Please be safe tomorrow. I couldn’t stand it if we’d come all this way, hatching the dragons too, only for you to leave me here as a grieving widow.”

 

“I will be careful, I swear it, I’ll come back to you, my sweet love. I’ll have Balerion with me now too, what can stand up to a dragon?”

 

“He’s only a baby, he won’t be able to do much.”

 

“I’m hoping that just the sight of him will bring the entire rebel host to their knees.” Rhaegar said. “All the writings claim that they’ll be able to set straw alight, even as hatchlings, so he won’t have the power to roast Baratheon alive in his armour, but he won’t know that.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Come, we have one last night together before you leave and I want to give my Husband a proper send off.”

 

“What about the babes?”

 

“They need to see that I, their Mother, have a deep connection to you, their Father. We need to establish dominance over them starting from now. You have read the same scriptures as I, they will become unruly if they think to challenge us, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes with them. They are five to our two, they already outnumber us.”

 

“We need to have the Dragonpit fixed up.” Rhaegar said as Harry started kissing his throat, opening his jerkin to bare his chest.

 

“No.” Harry said, pulling back and shaking his head. “Not after the storming of the Dragonpit during the Dance of the Dragons. They’d be too vulnerable. I want somewhere new built for them, with an open top so that they can come and go as they please, so that they can grow to the size of the Black Dread and not the sickly, stunted dragons near the end of their time. They need to see the sky, to feel the wind and the rain and the sun. They need open air and open space.”

 

“Where do you suggest, brother?” Rhaegar asked. “We have no space like that here in Kings Landing.”

 

“There is ample land at Summerhall. Those lands are still Targaryen lands and they’re in the Stormlands, Baratheon has forfeited his lands by starting this rebellion. We can take those lands from him. We rebuild Summerhall, Rhaegar. Bigger and more spacious than before. Big enough for even the Black Dread. A beautiful palace and a new structure for our babes hidden in the Dornish Marches.”

 

Rhaegar swung him up and kissed him, holding Harry’s head still with one large hand. He moved over to the bed and he broke apart to check for little dragons before he laid Harry down on the bed. Harry was immediately swarmed by their little babes and he laughed as one settled itself in his hair. He grinned up at Rhaegar, who smiled down at him fondly.

 

“This is going to be more difficult that I first anticipated.” He said and Harry laughed.

 

“Making love with one babe growing inside of me and five newborn dragons crawling around our heads was always going to be challenging, are you saying that you aren’t up for a challenge?” Harry teased.

 

Rhaegar growled playfully at him, but it was echoed immediately by five hisses, accompanied by streams of pale smoke. Harry laughed and touched the dragons nearest to him gently.

 

“They’re learning from you!” He declared happily.

 

“They’re so intelligent.” Rhaegar praised easily.

 

“Come now, make love to me, Husband. Tomorrow you leave for the Trident and the big reveal of the new generation of Targaryen dragons. I want to be thoroughly ravished and unable to get up before you go.”

 

Rhaegar smirked smugly at him. “Well, in that case, Husband, let us waste no more time.” He said, before taking hold of his breeches and pulling them down his legs, stopping to slip off Harry’s well-loved ruby boots, taking the time to kiss at his feet.

 

It was very difficult to make love in a bed swarming with newly born dragons, but when they had both reached their release and curled up, naked together, their five babies settling in around their sweat slicked bodies, scales to skin, Harry couldn’t have been happier, nor more satiated. The tides truly had changed this night and with the birth of five dragons, the war had firmly swung in their favour. They had the gods on their side and now they had dragons too, truly no one could stand in their way now. The victory was now theirs for the taking and take it they would. It would end upon the Trident, with Rhaegar and Balerion, Harry was certain of it.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry paced the Great Hall with trepidation as he waited on any sort of news. It had been six days since Rhaegar had left for the Trident and he should just be arriving with his host, which included Ser Gerold, Ser Jonothor and Ser Oswell, giving him triple the protection he had had before, seeing as Jaime Lannister was now staying here, at the Red Keep.

The morning after their dragons had hatched, Jaime had not stirred from his bed. He had been feverish and almost delirious when he was checked upon by a servant sent to fetch him. It was only then that it came about that he had been injured in battle and hadn’t said anything about his injuries to anyone, too worried that it would mean that he would be forced not to fight in the war. Harry had cursed him as a fool and patched him up himself, but he had forbade Jaime from leaving with Rhaegar’s host, telling him sternly that he needed to stay put in order to heal. Jaime had not been happy in the least, but Aerys, who was once again wandering the halls of the Red Keep, someone having let him out of his bed chambers, kept goading the seventeen year old.

 

“Shut up, old man!” Harry snapped. “Do you want to be confined in your chambers again?” He demanded as he touched a hand to his throbbing head.

 

“You can’t speak to me…”

 

“I’ll speak to you how I please!” Harry roared, cutting him off furiously.

 

“I gave you life!”

 

“Oh? Am I not a bastard child today then?” He quipped sarcastically as he read yet another missive that had been handed to him. This one had not come from the battlefield, but the news was still very unwelcome.

 

“You ungrateful little wretch, you shall burn! All of you shall burn!”

 

“Ser Jaime, what do you think of this?” Harry asked, getting Jaime’s opinion as he handed over the missive that had arrived by raven only fifteen minutes before.

 

Jaime, who was sat in a chair by the table that the map was laid upon, read the letter handed to him eagerly, anxious for any part in the war now that he was denied the chance to fight in the royal army during the deciding battle of the rebellion.

 

“I’d say that those filthy squids were planning to raid the coastline while the men are away, battling further in the mainland.” He said perceptively.

 

Harry nodded and he reached into the wooden box and plucked out a golden kraken. He placed it on the map, over the Iron Islands.

The missive had been sent, via raven which was unusual for such times of war as ravens were often shot down with arrows, from Lord Quenten Banefort, of the Banefort in the Westerlands. He claimed in his letter that large numbers of ships were surrounding Pyke, the seat of house Greyjoy. It could only mean one thing and Harry mentally cursed the opportunistic Ironmen for daring to plan a raiding party while the mainland was at war.

 

“I would assume that myself, but why is he writing to me about this matter and not to his liege lord, your Lord Father, who is closer? Tywin is at Casterly Rock and hasn’t joined the war. He is perfectly placed to protect the coast from the Ironborn should they raid it.”

 

“Tywin? Where is he? You will bring me his head!” Aerys rambled.

 

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Will you shut up already, why are you even here?!”

 

“The war! We will give them naught but ashes and cooked meat to rule over! Rossart will see to it, yes!”

 

Harry sighed heavily. “Ignore him. I have long since given up on deciphering the crazed ramblings he utters.”

 

“I would imagine he has written to you because Lord Banefort still sees you, the Targaryen’s, as the ruling family.” Jaime said diplomatically.

 

Harry nodded tiredly and he set the letter on fire, burning it like all of the others.

 

“Oh, how prettily it burns.” Aerys crooned. “Where is Rhaella?”

 

Harry grit his teeth and he stomped on the ashes, grinding the flames out viciously with the heel of his boot.

 

“Where is Rhaella?!” Aerys demanded louder. “Have her brought to me!”

 

“She’s on Dragonstone you mad, old man!” Harry raged furiously. “You can’t hurt her anymore!”

 

“She is my wife…”

 

“She is my Mother and as the King, I am telling you to never go near her again!”

 

“I am still the King!”

 

“You are not the King!”

 

“I am! I am the King I tell you, you bastard boy!”

 

Harry threw his hands up in frustration and he turned back to the table, trying to breathe deeply and calmly as his progressing pregnancy caused his patience to run very thin, patience which was already stretched to its limit due to the stress of the war and the very real fear that he might lose his beloved Husband. He would kill whoever had let the man out of his bed chambers if he ever found out who it had been. He swore it. It had likely been someone who stood to lose more than he gained if Aerys was no longer the King, there were several of them who sprung to mind that were still hovering around the Red Keep, just waiting for an opportunity to either dispose him, or to help the ‘King’ in whatever way they could, even if it was merely letting the man out of his locked bed chambers.

Jaime stood suddenly and Harry turned to him, startled, but a searing pain in his shoulder had him gasping. He touched a hand to the pain before pulling it away and looking at it to see blood. He turned fully to see Jaime grappling a blooded table knife from Aerys’ hands.

 

“Did you…did you just stab me in the back you filthy craven?!” He roared as Jaime disarmed the mad man easily, despite his own healing injuries and his recently broken fever. “I am unarmed!”

 

“You need to die to bless this war in our favour!”

 

“If anyone is going to die in this city, it’ll be you!” Harry snarled furiously. “Throw him back in his bed chambers and woe betide anyone who lets him back out again! I’m going for some air!”

 

Harry went storming straight to his rooms and he unlocked the door from a key that he took from around his neck. He did not leave his rooms unattended anymore, the door was always locked so that no unsuspecting servant wandered in to clean and stumbled upon his and Rhaegar’s secret…or got inadvertently attacked and eaten. He opened the door and four multi-coloured eyes looked up at him, as each of the four dragons left to him cracked open one eye each, before they closed again and went back to sleep at seeing him.

Harry smiled at his babies and he made sure that they still had plenty of water in the bucket and lots of fresh, diced meat. The meat had rapidly been devoured, but there was enough left to feed his babes for the rest of the day and the night. 

He took off his tunic and used a mirror to check on his shoulder, breathing more easily as it looked like it was a small scratch, just a flesh wound rather than a life threatening or debilitating wound. It had sliced a long line thanks in part to Jaime’s quick intervention, not plunged in deep as he suspected his Father had been aiming to do.

He let out a breath and he went to the bed and touched all four of his remaining babes and he breathed deeply, calming himself. This was the second time that his Father had tried to kill him in a little over a week. He couldn’t be allowed near him any longer, it was just too dangerous and after this latest attempt, it would be utterly foolish to allow Aerys to have a third attempt at his life. He would have to be much, much more careful until the war was over now. Of his Father and his little pet allies, any one of which could try to assassinate him while he only had a few gold cloaks and personal guards to protect him and with his slowness and encumbering pregnancy, he was not as able to protect himself as well as he ought to be either.

He went to the room next door, via the door that he and Rhaegar had demanded connect their wedding chambers together, and he peered at the small babe sleeping in Haeraenya’s cradle that he’d been forced to move into Elia and Ashara’s room. Red-brown haired and blue eyed, Prince Lewyn had dropped Stark’s only son and Heir off to him before riding to the Trident on a fresh horse to join Rhaegar and his sworn brothers, after Harry had forced him to eat a small something and let him have a small rest first. Of course his long-time friend had been let in on the secret of the dragons when Harry had taken him with him to put the babe into his bed chambers to keep him safe. The memory of his face as he looked upon the four dragons, and Harry told him that he and Rhaegar had done the seemingly impossible and brought back the dragons, made him smile.

The babe favoured the Tully looks, Harry decided as he fingered the small, auburn curls. The babe was mostly left to himself, as a hostage there were few people that Harry would allow near him. A wet nurse fed the babe four times a day, on Harry’s command. Harry fed the boy himself during the nights, as his dragons suckling had brought his milk in sooner than he would have had if not for them, so he was able to do so and with the babe properly able to suck, he was producing more milk in recent days.

 

“I am sorry that it has come to this.” He said softly to the babe. “You won’t be harmed, I swear it. You are here purely to tie up your Father’s hands, nothing more. You’re actually very important to this war, little babe, though I do wish that you were not called Robb after the rebel leader, though I expected nothing less from your Father, Robert Baratheon is his best friend after all.”

 

Harry sighed and he made sure that the door to Elia and Ashara’s bed chamber, that led out onto the corridor, was bolted too before he went back to his dragons, closing the connecting door behind him. It would have been awful if one of his dragons had gotten into the room and his only hostage was eaten in his cradle.

He crawled into the bed carefully, and he laid still as his tiny Xeraxys, such a beautiful sky blue with gold and silver hints, stood and stretched like a cat before wobbling on his forewings across the feather mattress to Harry’s chest, where he settled down contentedly and fell back to sleep. He was so warm that it was like keeping a hot coal on his chest, but Harry didn’t care as he made the decision to take a small nap to recover from the shock of having his own Father try to stab him in the back. It would prove to be a very fatal mistake.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Barristan rode proudly, yet alertly, beside the Prince Rhaegar, his curiosity burning over in his mind at the kisses, embraces and declarations of love that he had witnessed between Rhaegar and Haradarian. It had seemingly come out of the blue to his knowledge, but the boys had always been close, he had known as such from as far back as to the time before Haradarian had been walking upright. Rhaegar had followed Haradarian’s every movement, had hovered over him like a worried, protective parent. He had truly loved his younger brother and Haradarian had grown up adoring and emulating his older brother. But he had never once imagined that they had been so close as to be lovers, but what he had seen with his own eyes strongly suggested that they were in fact lovers to one another and he didn’t know how to process such a relationship between them.

After the failed plan to hatch the five dragon eggs, Rhaegar had been very, very quiet and introspective. Much more so than usual as he sunk so deeply into his thoughts that it took someone several attempts of increasing volume to get his attention at times.

They were currently scouting out the best vantage points on the Trident, Rhaegar in his new pitch black armour, the breast bedecked in rubies in the shape of his house sigil and the brand new, Valyrian steel blade sheathed at his hip, the dragonbone hilt smooth and glittering darky in the sunlight. Barristan still couldn’t believe that Haradarian had forged it himself, had carved the hilt himself, but truly, that boy would never cease to amaze him and he was so proud of the boy, so proud that his heart swelled as he remembered fondly watching him grow from a babe at the breast to a strong, kind, intelligent man.

He and his sworn brothers, Ser Gerold, Ser Jonothor, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur were riding protectively around Prince Rhaegar, who was scouring both banks of the Trident before declaring that in order to stop the rebel, Baratheon, from getting to the Eyrie, they had to be camped on the north bank and standing across the south bank when the rebel came up from the south. Their missing brother, Prince Lewyn, was taking longer to reach the Trident than King Haradarian had predicted and he hoped that he had reached Kings Landing and had not run amiss of any rebel forces on his way there. He hated that a mere babe, one who was not long born, was being held as a hostage, but he also knew that Haradarian would not harm him needlessly or cruelly.

They made it back to Rhaegar’s tent and Rhaegar seemed to be warring with himself, the indecision playing clearly upon his face as his eyes flicked to each of their faces as if measuring them against some hidden, unknown factor that they couldn’t possibly know, but Barristan stood himself up more firmly, throwing his shoulders back and his chest out, and his sworn brothers did the same as they were scrutinised by their future King.

 

“Close the flap.” He ordered, moving deeper into the tent, lighting more candles and lanterns to brighten up the interior of the large, spacious pavilion tent.

 

Ser Gerold did as instructed, tying the tent closed firmly, so that the barest hint of sunlight peeked through here or there, and they stared at their Prince curiously as he carefully took off the large leather bag that he had taken to wearing everywhere recently. No one was allowed to touch it and it was kept in Rhaegar’s lap at all times when he was riding. He hadn’t been seen without it in recent days, ever since they had ridden out from Kings Landing and many men in the royal army had tales to tell about what it contained, gossiping that it was jars of wildfire, or some other secret weapon forged by King Haradarian, who had also made the Valyrian steel sword that their Prince was now wearing too.

 

“While I was at Kings Landing, we attempted to hatch the dragon eggs from Dragonstone.” He said quietly, his voice hushed and almost reverent. “The first attempt, that Ser Barristan was witness to, was a failure as we misinterpreted what we had needed. Haradarian and I had thought that we needed salt as well as fire, we didn’t. What we needed was blood, not salt. In the dark of the night we tried again, in private over the ashes of our failure, and all five of the eggs hatched for us.”

 

“What…what are you saying, my Prince?” Ser Oswell asked him with wide eyes that darted to the bag and then back up to Rhaegar’s face.

 

Barristan shook his head as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts. Surely Rhaegar was not saying what they all thought that he meant.

Rhaegar, in answer to the question, silently opened the bag and let the top of it slump down, showing that nestled inside it was in fact a real live, breathing dragon the size of a large cat.

 

“Haradarian has the four others in Kings Landing with him, but I brought the biggest one with me.” He carried on, lifting the black scaled dragon from the bag gently. It cracked open burning red eyes and hissed deeply despite Rhaegar’s care, and pale smoke rose from its mouth and both nostrils. “This is Balerion reborn. We have named him Balerion in honour of the Black Dread, of whom he has a certain likeness. The four others are Viserion, Rhaelys, Pyrexian and Xeraxys.”

 

“It’s…oh by the Seven, it’s real.” Ser Jonothor said faintly, his face as white as the pure white cloak flowing down his back, as the newly awakened dragon crawled up Rhaegar’s arm to perch on his shoulder, glaring at them through those piercing, demon red eyes.

 

“He’s very real.” Rhaegar nodded, stroking the dragon that was curling up into his vulnerable, exposed neck, like a large, dangerous cat. “I’ve been feeding him on small pieces of meat. He cooks them himself. He can’t sustain the flame for very long, but he can set clothing and straw on fire. All I need is for Baratheon to have his horse dressed and I can unleash Balerion to set him on fire. If it startles the horse, I can kill him. Perhaps it’s not the most honourable way, but at the moment I just want this rebellion over and I want to go home. I want my family to be safe and able to come home.”

 

“Can I…can I touch him?” Ser Arthur asked, rather bravely in Barristan’s opinion.

 

Rhaegar plucked the dragon from his shoulder and held him out, pushing him gently into Ser Arthur’s arms, who was forced to cradle the dragon like a babe with both arms.

 

“Oh. Oh.” He gasped before the dragon stilled and let out a small, growling chirrup. “He’s really heavy.”

 

Rhaegar nodded in agreement. “He is. I suppose it’s the iron content laid down in his bones that makes him so much heavier than his small size belies, but he is a week old and he’s eating very well. He’s doing so well, especially as Balerion was one of the fossilised eggs. I had worried that that would affect him in some way, but it hasn’t.”  

 

Rhaegar took the dragon back into his own arms, but Balerion once again climbed up to Rhaegar’s shoulder, curling up into his warm neck.

 

“With the dragons back, my family can once again flourish to the heights of our ancestors.” Rhaegar said with a smile at the dragon, who flicked out a forked tongue to lick at Rhaegar’s nose. “We can no longer be opposed with five dragons on our side.”

 

“We have to get you close to Baratheon, then. As soon as we can.” Ser Gerold reasoned.

 

“He’s injured, he’s not going to be to the forefront of the army.” Rhaegar sighed. “I have to make myself seen and hope that he comes forward to parley.”

 

“That isn’t going to be difficult with your new armour.” Ser Gerold said, indicating the dragon wing helm that Haradarian had had forged for his brother.

 

Rhaegar smiled slightly and then he sighed once more, turning to the map that he had spread out on the small table. He had carved wooden pieces to indicate the houses and their positions. He had two, three headed dragon pieces, one was placed over the Trident to indicate their position, the other one was in the centre of Kings Landing to indicate Haradarian’s position.

 

“The scouts say that Baratheon is less than a day’s march away. His scouts will have reported to him by now, he will know of our position and he’ll camp where he is for the night, as we have, and then the battle will be tomorrow, but I will post more sentries than usual just in case he tries to sneak attack us in the night.”

 

“Where has the dragon been sleeping, pray tell?” Ser Oswell asked, still fixated upon the small, scaled creature at Rhaegar’s neck.

 

“Curled up in the crook of my neck.” Rhaegar said easily as he sat down, moving the dragon to his lap. It stretched and then circled, curling back up in Rhaegar’s lap and falling asleep. Rhaegar stroked it gently, as if it were one of his own tiny daughters.

 

“Is that safe?”  

 

“We have bonded.” Rhaegar said easily. “He sees me and Haradarian as above him in the hierarchy, thus he listens to us both and takes orders from us both. He is only a week old, but he is already taking easy commands well. They’re so much more intelligent than the writings acclaimed to them.”

 

Barristan watched the boy that he had seen growing, from a newborn babe, to this four-and-twenty year old man in front of him and he knew that nothing could stop him from following him. He would follow Rhaegar right down to the seven hells itself if he was ordered to do so and tomorrow, when the battle of the Trident started, he and his sworn brothers would be beside this man and they would protect him with their very lives.

Rhaegar had kept the dragon, Balerion, in his tent, sleeping upon his own bed with half a side of cooked beef to chew upon and a bucket of water for his thirst. He had then gone about the royal army, issuing orders and meeting with the Lords of his banners, informing them of what he wanted done tomorrow when Baratheon and his army met them upon the ford in the Trident.

He spoke to common soldiers and well known knights alike, instilling them with his confidence of victory and the justice of their fight. They were not the ones in the wrong, he told them all firmly, Baratheon and his army were all rebels who couldn’t be allowed to tear up the Seven Kingdoms as they saw fit. They had to be stopped and it would be done here on the Trident, by his own hand.

There were wild cheers and shouts of his name after Rhaegar had given his speech, more so as he urged them all to eat and sing, but told them also to get an early night, so that they would be strong and rested upon the battle tomorrow.

Rhaegar had only stopped talking to, and eating and drinking, with his men when the sky was getting dark. He had made his way back to his tent, in the centre of the camp, and checked critically on his dragon as they watched him. He had kept all of the Kingsguard with him that night and they bedded down in his own pavilion tent, but Rhaegar barely slept. None of them really slept and it had little to do with the baby dragon prowling around and even over the top of them, nor had it anything to do with their missing sworn brother, Prince Lewyn, arriving two hours before daybreak on a sweating, slavering horse. Rhaegar had immediately urged him to sleep for a few hours before the battle as he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion, much like his horse.

The baby Balerion had taken a great liking to Ser Arthur, however, whether he sensed that Arthur wasn’t afraid of him as much as the rest of them or he somehow understood that Arthur had wanted to hold him first, before anyone else, he perched on his shoulder, licking his cheek and neck with his forked tongue in a clear sign of affection. Rhaegar was once again lost in his thoughts as the sun rose and the day of battle approached. He was mumbling under his breath too and at one point Barristan heard him whisper his brother’s name and aware that he might be taking a private moment to pray to the gods before the battle, he turned himself away.

Rhaegar was up within the hour after that, dressed in his armour by his squires, Ser Gerold checking personally to make sure that every buckle and fastening was secure. Rhaegar’s jet black destrier was decked out in red and he held a meeting with all of his Lords and generals, dictating who was to be where and what was to happen. He stressed that no one from the enemy’s side, not one person, would be allowed to cross the Trident before he swung up onto his horse and led his army over to the south bank of the Trident to halt any advancement of the rebel army. There they waited, for almost half a day, water skins being passed around, morsels of food were eaten and the soldiers chatted and joked together to keep their fear and nerves at bay.

Then the moment came and the rebel army could be seen advancing upon them, coming closer step by step as they watched silently, and then the rebel army halted in front of the royal army, several paces between them, waiting for more orders. Barristan looked at every banner, at every sigil, memorising the houses involved in the rebellion and he was angry at some of the allies to the rebels that he saw. Houses that had pledged allegiance to the Targaryens, to the crown, only to turn their cloaks and declare for the rebel Baratheon instead.

 

“Where is Baratheon?” Rhaegar called out thunderously. “Let him come forward and we can end this farce here and now.”

 

“You abducted a highborn lady!” One soldier yelled out.

 

“The Lady Lyanna was found at Moat Cailin by men under the command of Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbour and he had her returned to Winterfell and to her younger brother, Benjen. She is safe and well.” Rhaegar said. “I never left Kings Landing for the entire year preceding her going missing. I could not have been the reason for her disappearance.”

 

“King Aerys is a mad man!” Another one cried, unwilling to give up.

 

“Aerys is no longer the King. Haradarian has taken the crown in our Father’s place and he is ruling in place of the mad king. Aerys is now done and he will never again be King.”

 

“You have my son and attacked my wife!”

 

Rhaegar smiled at last as the leaders of the rebellion pushed forward to the front. Stark, Baratheon, Arryn and Tully.

 

“Ah, Stark. I had wondered if you’d be here, given the nature of the threat against you.” Rhaegar said calmly.

 

“You attacked my Wife in her own home and stole our newborn babe.” Stark growled.

 

“She has a terrible right hand to her.” Prince Lewyn said. “I regret that one of the men I took with me was a little…heavy handed with her, but King Haradarian ordered your babe to be delivered to him at Kings Landing so we couldn’t allow her to stop us from carrying out his orders.”

 

“You were the one to steal into Riverrun to take my babe?” Stark demanded.

 

“I was.” Prince Lewyn answered with a small incline of his head. “Your babe is fine and well as a hostage at Kings Landing, in the care of King Haradarian.”

 

“That you dare to take mere babes…” Robert Baratheon, looking very hale and healthy despite their intel that said that he was injured, trailed off threateningly.

 

“Oh, worry not. You have not been left out, Baratheon. Lord Mace Tyrell has found a hidden gully in the base of Storm’s End, a small ravine that slips under the curtain wall from the sea. He has taken both of your brothers’ hostage. Storm’s End is of course forfeit to the crown. Stannis will be executed as soon as he reaches King Haradarian at Kings Landing, Renly will be a hostage at Kings Landing and he will be fostered out to Highgarden under the care of Lord Mace Tyrell.” Rhaegar lied expertly.

 

Despite gaining the intel about the small ravine under the curtain wall, Lord Mace had been unable to take advantage of it due to the lack of boats as the entire Targaryen fleet was moored at Dragonstone. Some were currently being constructed and it would only be days before the castle fell to them, but it hadn’t fallen yet.

 

“You lie.” Baratheon raged at him, but Rhaegar could see that he had gone pale under his angry red flush. He knew about the small ravine into Storm’s End, of course he did, it was his home, but it was probably a family known secret about the way into the castle via the sea, one that was guarded heavily and jealously.

 

“If you are content to wait, I could have your brother’s head brought from Kings Landing.” Rhaegar said dismissively. “But I am not content to wait, I want this over with and I want to go back to my own family.”

 

“You will not be leaving this ford!” Baratheon growled furiously. “I will kill you for this and avenge my brothers.”

 

“Even if you do kill me, you’ll still have to kill Haradarian.” Rhaegar said angrily.

 

Barristan did not like the look that Robert Baratheon was wearing when he heard that remark.

 

“I won’t need to.” He said nastily. “I’ve agreed to marry Cersei Lannister who wishes to be my Queen. As we speak Tywin Lannister is leading a host of westermen to Kings Landing, pledging allegiance to the crown…as soon as the gates open, he will declare for me. Your brother will be dead before my brothers even reach Kings Landing and you will be dead with him. I will go to Dragonstone myself, and I will kill your own younger brother for the threat against my own. I will kill your Mother and the babe she carries, your wives too and I’ll leave your babes until last, but I swear to the Seven that I will wipe out you Targaryens once and for all.”

 

Barristan felt his stomach sink at the threat to the capital, and he felt sick at the threat issued to the women and children of his royal family. Rhaegar and Haradarian would never harm the child hostages, nor a woman, yet Baratheon was threatening to do both, killing the sweet Targaryen babes and Ser Arthur’s sister, Ashara and Prince Lewyn’s niece, Elia too. Rhaegar, however, stayed calm in complete contrast to the raging Baratheon, a small smile on his face.

 

“Do you think that my brother is that stupid?” He actually chuckled. “That he will open the gates to just anyone who comes knocking, even if they are declaring to be allies of the crown? He is far too cautious for that, he is far too intelligent to fall for such an obvious trick. He will keep Lannister’s forces _outside_ the walls, as he did with my own host when I went to the capital. If Lannister shows even the slightest inclination of turning his cloak, then Haradarian will bombard him and his force with the eight trebuchets that are placed around the walls.” 

 

Baratheon was back to looking furious again and his fists were clenched tight on the reins of his stallion. Barristan could see his jaw working furiously as he ground his teeth together.

 

“So you see, your plan has done nothing except to confirm to me that Lannister is a rebel also and I will delight in taking Casterly Rock for my own family, along with Winterfell, Storm’s End, Riverrun and the Eyrie…it seems that my children will be very well endowed when they grow older. We will be starting the Targaryen family of five great houses, it seems and house Targaryen will cover the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Vale, the North, the Riverlands and the Westerlands. My how we will grow.”

 

“Only if you win!” Baratheon raged.

 

“Of course I’ll win. You can’t beat a dragon.” Rhaegar laughed.

 

Prince Lewyn, who had seen Haradarian’s dragons when he’d dropped off the babe, Robb, had also been introduced to Rhaegar’s dragon, Balerion, early that morning, when he’d finally arrived at the Trident and had been led to his King’s royal pavilion. He shared a look with his sworn brothers and they all smiled, looking proudly at their commander, Rhaegar. No one could beat a dragon.

 

“You Targaryens are all mad! You’re all the same, you all think that you’re dragons and you’re not! You’re just men!” Jon Arryn scoffed.

 

Rhaegar laughed again. “Indeed.” He agreed with an incline of his head that threw the rebel army. “I was speaking of my actual dragon.” He said.

 

“The dragons are dead and they’ve been dead for a hundred and fifty years.” Stark insisted, but the ordinary men behind him shifted uneasily as Rhaegar grinned rather ferociously.

 

“You haven’t been near Kings Landing recently, have you?” Prince Lewyn laughed.

 

The men opposite all looked nervous and some of the soldiers started looking behind them, looking for an escape route.

 

“You’re lying.” Baratheon snarled. “We would have heard if there had been real dragons in Kings Landing.”

 

“Not if they were kept in Maegor’s Holdfast.” Rhaegar said simply with what Barristan could only describe as an infuriating smile.

 

“Show me a real dragon and I’ll believe you.” Baratheon scoffed, with his own infuriatingly, smug smile.

 

Rhaegar actually laughed, long and loudly, and he opened the bag in his lap, that was hooked over his shoulder and Barristan kept his eyes on the men opposite him as Rhaegar pulled out the baby dragon, Balerion.

 

“This is our Balerion reborn. I brought him with me so that you could meet him. Haradarian has four dragons with him in Kings Landing. Viserion, Rhaelys, Pyrexian and Xeraxys. I wonder how Lannister will deal with that if he does attack Kings Landing. Not very well I would imagine.”

 

Barristan smiled as he saw the faces of the men opposite as the little dragon crawled up to Rhaegar’s shoulder and let out a shriek that echoed through the silent trees as no one so much as dared to breathe as they stared with bulging eyes at the jet black and red tinted dragon.

 

“If you surrender now and bend the knee to me, you will be executed swiftly and your men will be able to go back to their homes and families unharmed.”

 

Rhaegar unsheathed the beautiful, rippling Valyrian steel blade and held it in his hand, ready for whatever decision Baratheon made.

 

“It’s only a baby!” Baratheon roared, trying to convince his men that it could be killed, trying to get them to fight despite the fact that they were being faced with the first real dragon in a hundred and fifty years. “We will not cower from a newly hatched dragon.”

 

“Dragons can kill as soon as they hatch.” Rhaegar said matter-of-factly. “They are born fledged and able to breathe fire and this dragon is over a week old now. Balerion, let us show them.”

 

Rhaegar said something in High Valyrian and the little dragon looked at Rhaegar and then stood up on his hind legs, spreading out his little wings, which were actually a more impressive size than his little body belied. His breast started to lighten in colour as the little dragon seemed to swell and then he opened his mouth to show the fire building within.

The torrent of fire that the little dragon spat out was shocking, it was jet black flames shot through with brilliant red, exactly like his scales and Barristan wondered if that was true of all dragons. The black fire was strange enough, but it reached so much further than Barristan would have ever believed the little dragon capable of reaching and the _heat_ that such a tiny thing emitted made him sweat and he wasn’t even in the direct line of it. The black-red fire scorched the grass all over the bank and it spooked the horses into whinnying and tossing their heads. One even bolted, but Barristan wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the rider just trying to get as far away from the front of the line, away from the baby dragon, as he possibly could.

 

“So, are you going to bend the knee and accept your executions?” Rhaegar asked mildly and his men laughed behind him, though they were tittering at the sight of the dragon and the destruction it could wreak. Barristan rather thought that they were just glad that they were behind the dragon and not in front of it, facing it, like the rebel army.

 

“We have not come all this way just to bend the knee and accept execution from you!” Baratheon raged. “Kill them all.”

 

“You always were a hot headed fool!” Rhaegar shouted out. “You will kill your men needlessly!”

 

Barristan covered his Prince with his sworn brothers as the rebel army, moved to fight through fear that induced a panic, charged at them and their own army surged forward to clash against them.

Barristan stayed firmly by Rhaegar’s side, fighting and he was proud that Rhaegar trusted them with his life, as he didn’t focus on the people trying to kill him, but he was keeping his gaze solely on Robert Baratheon, keeping him in his sights.

 

“Haradarian was right, he’s trying to cross the Trident to get to the Eyrie. We need to pull back and meet him on the northern bank.” Rhaegar told them and Barristan got slightly separated from Rhaegar then, as he moved off with two other members of the Kingsguard, leaving four of them to fight his enemies to protect his back.

 

Barristan fought his way through, thrusting his sword into a man’s neck, ignoring the gout of blood that gushed out as he yanked his sword back and out of bone, and he caught back up to Rhaegar on his noticeable black stallion bedecked in red, Balerion perched on his shoulder with his leathery wings outstretched still, much like Rhaegar’s newly forged, black helm, marking where the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms was on the field.

People were giving him a very wide berth, even those who were fighting on their side. The dragon had served his purpose, it had shocked all of the soldiers, even their own, and they were wary of being caught in the burning red gaze of the dragon, because none of them wanted to be bathed in dragonfire, no matter that Balerion was only a week old and not even the size of the toe of his namesake, Balerion the Black Dread.

 

“Not running away, are you Baratheon?” Rhaegar taunted as he caught up to the fleeing rebel Lords actually in the ford of the river. “Perhaps if you present me your back, I’ll ram my sword through it regardless.”

 

Baratheon swung around on his horse and he charged at Rhaegar in a blind fury. Rhaegar met the blow from the heavy, spiked warhammer with the new Valyrian steel blade that Haradarian had forged for him. Balerion sent his fire straight down the blade, hitting the rebel leader in the chest, but though the armour must have heated up, Baratheon’s yell was more of fright than pain.

 

“You’ve lost, Baratheon.” Rhaegar panted as he blocked another blow from the warhammer with the sword. “This is Kingsfire, my brother forged it for me himself.”

 

Baratheon answered that with a brutal swing of his warhammer and again Rhaegar blocked it, but a third, more powerful blow from the Warhammer that came much quicker than anyone anticipated caught Rhaegar in the chest and he fell from his horse like a stone, face down in the Trident.

Gerold Hightower leapt from his horse to pull the Prince from the water, but Robert Baratheon swung a blow at his head and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Barristan felt his heart stutter as Baratheon yanked back his warhammer, splattered with the brains of the man who had taught him what it was to be a member of the Kingsguard, leaving a gaping hole in the back of the head and helm of one of the greatest men of the Seven Kingdoms.

He leapt down himself, ducked the blow to his own head and raised his shield to fend off any other blows as his sworn brothers, their own shock now overcome, moved to shield him as he yanked Rhaegar’s face from the water, praying fervently to the Warrior that he wasn’t dead.

Rhaegar choked and spluttered as he came up, just regaining consciousness and Barristan breathed a little easier.

 

“Too much talking and posturing, my Prince.” Barristan told the twenty-four year old sternly. “Battles are rarely won with words. You have a dragon now, use him! We need to finish up here and get to Kings Landing to help your brother if Tywin Lannister really is on his way to attack the city.”

 

Rhaegar looked at him a little dazedly, a hand touching his dented armour, but his eyes cleared a little at the mention of Haradarian and he nodded.

 

“Balerion!” Rhaegar called out, his voice low and quiet and slightly thready. “I seem to be having trouble breathing, Ser.” He said quieter, to him alone.

 

Barristan looked immediately to the dent in the armour, over Prince Rhaegar’s side and he said a quick prayer to the Warrior.

 

“You may have a broken rib or two.” He said comfortingly, praying that that was all it was and nothing worse…nothing to the calibre of Baelor Breakspear, who had taken a morning star to the back of the head. He had been fine, completely fine, walking and talking afterwards, but when his dented helm had been removed, his brain had slipped out and he had died in the arms of Ser Duncan, who would go on to be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

 

Rhaegar inhaled and exhaled, as if testing his breathing. He seemed to declare himself alright as he picked up his sword and held out an arm for Balerion to land on, as if he were a bird of prey.

Barristan helped Rhaegar to climb back onto his horse and then swung himself up onto his own. The remainder of the Kingsguard closed in around their Prince and they tried to ignore that their commander had been killed, that Rhaegar, who would be their King once they got home, could have been killed also and there was more than one worried glance being sent to the large dent in the side of Rhaegar’s breastplate.

Rhaegar chased down Robert Baratheon, who was trying to flee towards the Bloody Gates and to the Eyrie, where he would be safe to recover, but his entourage were being harried and attacked all the way and Baratheon lost the support of Hoster Tully and Eddard Stark along the way to smaller battles as they became separated.

Rhaegar charged at Baratheon again, as men fought and died all around them. Rhaegar didn’t trouble himself this time with talking, instead he swung his blade and his sword swiped across the top of Baratheon’s shield, sparks flying from the scrape of metal, almost taking off Robert Baratheon’s head.

Barristan jarred his own arm and shoulder raising his shield to protect his Prince from the next blow from the warhammer. Baratheon was using the spiked side of the hammer this time and it came inches from Barristan’s face as it splintered his shield like tinder, leaving a massive hole in the centre of his shield and making it all but useless, but still Barristan held it, using the rim to barge the shaft of the hammer out of Rhaegar’s way and if he died in his Prince’s place…well, that was what he’d agreed to when he had bent the knee and had been accepted as a member of the Kingsguard as a young man. He _would_ give his life for his royal family if he needed to, happily, honourably, as he was meant to.

Lord Jon Arryn came to Robert’s aid, but the man did not get far as Jonothor Darry charged to meet him. Barristan didn’t take much notice, determined to protect Rhaegar with his very life as his shield rapidly became nothing more than splinters of wood with a metal handle attached.

 

“Brother, here.” Ser Arthur passed over his own shield and Barristan quickly switched them over between hammer swings, dropping the useless remains of his own shield into the river around his horse’s feet.

 

Ser Arthur was slicing through men and enemy horses with the pale, Valyrian sword Dawn and he didn’t need a shield at all as he could dodge and weave quicker. Rhaegar was doing the same with his dark Valyrian sword, Kingsfire, only he was aiming almost exclusively at Baratheon, only twisting to stab at a lone, foolish man who tried to attack him from the other side occasionally.

Barristan startled as Baratheon let out a thunderous yell of denial and grief and Barristan turned to see Ser Jon ripping his sword from Jon Arryn’s opened belly. The man that Baratheon saw as a Father.

Baratheon acted too quickly for any of them to react to as he swung his warhammer and smashed open the back of Ser Jon’s head. He too fell like a puppet who’d had his strings cut and Barristan felt sick, but he was almost immediately filled with a sense of vengeance as Rhaegar yelled out one word in High Valyrian, ‘ _Dracarys_ ’, and Balerion reacted immediately, spewing out a stream of black fire shot through with red and he set Baratheon on fire, his horse bolted from under him and dumped Baratheon into the river, extinguishing the flames.

Rhaegar had quickly leapt down from his own horse and with one vicious thrust, he drove the Valyrian blade through Robert Baratheon’s breastplate and into the flesh and muscle beneath.

Those who had seen the action had various reactions. If they were with the royalist army, they cheered and shouted, if they were with the rebels, they threw down their arms and even fell to their knees to plead for mercy, or they turned and ran, being cut down as they did so by the jubilant royalists, who had emerged victorious with Rhaegar’s swift actions.

Rhaegar made sure that Baratheon was assuredly dead before he pulled his sword free with a wet sucking noise and he called Balerion to him, cradling the tiring dragon as gently as he could in his pitch black armour.

Barristan stayed close to him, alert and at the ready, even though he was tired himself. Prince Lewyn pulled in closer too, but the other members of their brotherhood were gone, lost in the madness around them or dead.

Ser Oswell was the first to come back, his shield battered, his sword bloody, but he took a quick breather and then he stood tall, surrounding Rhaegar, who had removed his helm to take a better, less restrictive, look around.

 

“We need to find Stark and Tully.” Rhaegar croaked, his voice dry and thready again and Barristan looked worriedly to the large dent in the armour again.

 

“Perhaps we should find a field medic.” Prince Lewyn insisted.

 

“There’s no time, we need to find Stark and Tully and then get back to Kings Landing. If Tywin Lannister is taking his host to attack Haradarian or besiege the city, we need to help him!” Rhaegar said, ending breathlessly. It took him several worrying moments to regain his breath and he was panting as if he had run a mile uphill.

 

“Your Grace, Hoster Tully has been taken captive.” Ser Oswell insisted.

 

“Then that just leaves Stark.”

 

“He’s heading back to Riverrun.” Ser Arthur shouted out as he forced his way through bodies to approach them, his left arm bloody and held gingerly.

 

“You seem to be injured, Ser.” Prince Lewyn teased.

 

“I gave my shield to Barristan so that he could cover our King. This injury was in the line of duty!” Ser Arthur insisted.

 

“Is it deep?” Rhaegar asked concernedly.

 

“No, your Grace. It is but a scratch.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Then we need to leave. We need to get back to Kings Landing and to Haradarian.”

 

“You don’t think Baratheon’s words were true, do you?” Ser Oswell asked.

 

“I can’t take the chance that he was telling the truth.” Rhaegar said firmly. “If Tywin is heading to storm Kings Landing…I _need_ to protect my brother. I need to be there for him. If anything were to happen to him and I hadn’t acted because I’d thought that it was a mere lie…” Rhaegar’s throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence and Barristan understood, perhaps less than he thought he would have a week before after the kisses that he had seen between them, but they had always been close and to lose one of them would destroy the other, he knew. He had always known as such, but if they truly were lovers then that loss would be felt tenfold and the remaining Prince would become a mere shade of his former self through widowed grief.

 

After this rebellion, the realm couldn’t afford to lose both of the strong, caring men who had taken over. A boy not three name days old was next in the line of succession if they lost Rhaegar and Haradarian. Even Viserys was too young at just seven years old. The crown would likely pass to Viserys with Queen Rhaella acting as a regent if both Rhaegar and Haradarian were killed, Prince Rhaegon was just too young for such responsibilities and pressures and he would be for another decade at least.

But that was only the worst case scenario. He was still holding out hope that Baratheon had merely been trying to put Rhaegar off of his stride, that he hadn’t agreed to marry Cersei Lannister when his supposed true love, Lyanna Stark, was still alive and well. But of course he could see the political advantages of marrying Cersei Lannister, not least it would earn him backing from the might of Tywin Lannister and the riches of Casterly Rock, but would Baratheon forsake his true love just for political advantages? Barristan didn’t believe so, which meant that he had been lying about the attack on Kings Landing. It wasn’t like Tywin Lannister to declare for the losing horse, either.

Perhaps he was just trying to talk himself out of the idea of Haradarian being attacked when he and the Kingsguard were here with Rhaegar, with the royalist army, so far away from him and useless. All Haradarian had with him were the gold cloaks and a few loyal men around him, he had one member of the Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, with him, but the last they’d known he was injured and feverish, he might not be in a state to help, but if he was, would he do what he was sworn to do? If Tywin Lannister had declared for Baratheon, could any of them trust that Jaime would keep to his oaths? He had proven himself incapable of putting aside his birth house before, but if it was as black and white as purposefully betraying his King and handing him over to his Father to be killed in the name of Robert Baratheon, would he do as such? If it was a choice of his sworn house of Targaryen, or his birth house of Lannister, which would he choose? Barristan could not trust that it would be the King that Jaime chose, thus they needed to ride with all haste to the capital.

If Jaime did betray the Targaryens and the city and Haradarian was attacked, then Barristan didn’t know if the new King would survive the ensuing battle, because for the last few turns, he had become increasingly…scholarly was perhaps the kindest way of saying things, but Haradarian had not been training, he hadn’t touched a sword or a shield in several turns and he had shown absolutely no interest in hunting or even being near a horse. All he wanted to do was sit in the warm, comfortable solar and eat with his nose buried in book and once again he had gained a considerable amount of weight, particularly around his middle, as he had done just before his very serious illness two years previous. Barristan didn’t know what had happened or what had changed, but it had seemed to happen very suddenly to him, as it had two years ago, he did truly hope that this was not a foreshadow to a second, very serious illness, but his King was in no state to fight and his heart thumped harder in his chest. They needed to get back to him, they needed to protect him.

 

“Mount up.” Rhaegar told them seriously. “I’ve got as many men on horses as I can, but some are injured and can’t move quickly enough. We’re riding for Kings Landing, the main bulk of the foot soldiers will follow behind with the injured, but I need to get to Haradarian as soon as I can and if that means leaving behind the majority of the army, then so be it.”

 

Rhaegar swung himself up onto his horse and Barristan watched him go grey faced as he gasped in pain, one hand going to his ribs, right over the dent in his armour.

Barristan would have felt much better if Rhaegar would have seen someone about his ribs, but he wasn’t waiting and he barely waited long enough for them to get onto their own horses before they were leaving, charging off down the Kingsroad with as much of the healthy, uninjured army that could sit a horse. He just hoped that if Baratheon had been telling the truth about Tywin Lannister moving his forces to attack Haradarian at the capital, that Rhaegar had also been right about Haradarian keeping them outside the capital walls as he had done with their own forces when he had pulled them back to Kings Landing.

Barristan sent a heartfelt prayer to the Warrior that they made it back to Kings Landing in time to help if it was needed as he rode beside Rhaegar, who was cradling the baby Balerion in the crook of his arm, next to his heart, because he knew that none of them could face losing the sweet boy who was currently the King. None of them could face losing Haradarian the Heart.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry woke up suddenly, to screams and clashes of metal on metal and his heart missed several beats. He sat himself up, dislodging Xeraxys from his chest. The blue dragon hissed at him, but Harry flicked him lightly with his finger as a gentle chiding.

He stood himself up eventually, after a few failed attempts thanks to his large baby belly, and he looked out of his window and he swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat as he saw Kings Landing on fire, the smallfolk screaming, as groups of armed men flying the lion of Lannister ran amok in the city, laying it to waste and burning all that they could find.

Harry barred the door to his bed chambers as a priority, before he flung open the dresser door and found his armour. Not much of it would fit over his pregnant stomach, but it would be better than wearing nothing at all.

He finished getting as much of his armour as he could onto his body, lacing up his boots tightly, before he went and got the tiny babe, Robb, from the room next door, hefting him into his own bed chamber and he closed the connecting door, barring that as well. He put the boy down in the second of the abandoned twin cradles, Helaena’s.

He heard the screams within the Red Keep and he swallowed the thick, bitter bile of fear back down as he controlled his breathing so that he didn’t start hyperventilating. Kings Landing was lost. His knees were shaking uncontrollably as someone tried to open his bed chamber door, only to find it locked.

A big, heavy body thudded against it and Harry found his sword and unsheathed it. If the bastards on the other side got through his meagre barrier, he would be ready…and then the Lannisters would pay for this attack. If he found out that Jaime Lannister had anything, anything at all, to do with this attack then he would have his head decorating a spike on Traitors Walk before the day was out, member of the Kingsguard or not.

His dragons were all awake because of the noise and clamour and at just a little over a week old, they were very unpredictable, but they were taking simple commands very well. Harry tried to convey that the people on the opposite side of the door were enemies to them, but as Pyrexian cocked his little head at him and chirruped and Viserion wobbled his way over to the bucket of water to take a drink, he believed that he’d failed miserably in his attempt.

Baby Robb started crying and Harry sighed, turning to push the babe further into the corner of the room, where he would be more out of the way and wouldn’t be accidentally harmed or easily slain.

 

“We know that you’re in there, pretty Prince. If you open the door, I promise to only fuck you once. I hear that you’re rather used to that.”

 

Harry sneered at the door. He hated that the news of his rape by a member of the Kingswood Brotherhood had spread through the Seven Kingdoms after his recovery, but there had been nothing to be done about it and it was something that he’d just had to get used to. Too many people had been involved in his rescue, too many of them had seen the state of him, locked in the crow cage on full view as he’d been and too many of them had been present when his attacker had allegedly taunted the Kingsguard about raping him to try and goad them into killing him quickly before they reached Kings Landing and the inevitable torture began.

 

“If you come in here, I’ll be sure to fuck you with my sword.” Harry growled, his heart pounding in his chest, his strong, confident words belying his utter terror as his bowels squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“The city is ours, in the name of Robert Baratheon.”

 

“It is unlike Tywin to make such a grave error of judgement. Joining in the battle before it is done.” Harry said, even as the door thudded as another heavy body hit it, making it judder in its frame.

 

“The battle is all but done.” A man snarled. “Robert will win! He’ll destroy the Royal army and he’ll be victorious.”

 

“Oh, I hadn’t heard that Tywin could dream the future.” Harry snarked. “What other talents has he been hiding from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms? Other than shitting gold, of course, we already know about that.”

 

“Enough of this, open this door!”

 

“Why don’t you open it yourself?!” Harry retorted.

 

“I didn’t think you were such a craven, pretty Prince, or are the rumours true and you are in actuality a Princess? That would explain why you’re not out there fighting in the war, why you’re hiding behind locked doors and cowering in your bed chambers, it would explain why you’ve never taken part in any tourneys, you’re a woman! I would love to find out, even if Jaime says that you’ve gotten fat and lazy, I’d still have a go or two at you and find out once and for all if you’re a pretty Prince or a pretty Princess.”

 

“I didn’t have you as a man lover. Do you really think I’m pretty?” Harry exaggeratedly cooed. “Will I be able to feel your cock? Is it bigger than your thumb? If it’s not, I don’t think I’ll bother, thanks.”

 

There was a yell of rage outside the door and there was a series of quick thumps against the door as someone rammed their shoulder into it repeatedly, hardly stopping to pull away before throwing themselves back at the door.

 

“Shall I take this to mean that your cock is not bigger than your thumb?” Harry asked innocently.

 

He moved around, preparing himself for the fight to come as he checked on baby Robb once more, made sure that nothing would get in his way and he got his biggest dragon onto his shoulder. He made sure that Rhaelys was settled and secured on his shoulder, before removing the barricade. He readied his sword and he took several deep breaths to calm himself and steady his nerves.

He unbolted the door, right as the body on the other side thumped into it, and the door flung open before he could touch it, smashing into his forehead and nose and he yelled out in pain, hot blood washing down his face. He only survived thanks to Rhaelys shrieking and he smiled viciously at the several men outside the door, particularly the big, heavy man who had smashed the door into his face. They had their swords out, and raised ready to hack and stab at him, but they were frozen to the spot as Rhaelys screeched again and they realised that what they were seeing was actually real and their eyes were not playing tricks upon them.

 

“This is Rhaelys.” Harry introduced through his teeth that were gritted in pain, trying to control the throbbing pain he felt in his head and face, blinking the blood from his eyes, so that he didn’t die in the next few moments. “Do you think that you will survive dragonfire? Let’s find out, shall we?”

 

“Jaime said that you were unsuccessful!” One man whispered, his face greyish-green and his eyes too wide with fear and panic.

 

“Jaime has been talking a lot it seems. But no, he is mistaken, we have five dragons. I have four and Rhaegar has one with him at the Trident, do you think that he’ll lose still? Because I don’t believe that he will. Rhaelys, burn them! _Dracarys_!”

 

Rhaelys did nothing for a moment, then Harry felt his baby heating up on his shoulder and he let out a stream of orange-yellow fire, veined through with green and it caught several cloaks on fire and that was all he could manage, but truly it was all that he had to do as the men threw down their arms and tried to run in utter terror. Harry cut down four of them as they ran, stabbing and slicing open their unprotected backs. He left the others to run back down the hall of Maegor’s Holdfast and he went back to his bed chamber. He took a small breather, steeling himself for what was to come as he tied the hostage, baby Robb, to his front with a sheet from the bed and he called his three other dragons to him, getting them sat on his shoulders too, jostling each other for position and balance.

He stormed back out of his bed chamber, wiping the fresh blood from his eyes and face, and he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword. He cut down every man in his way as he made his way to the Great Hall, where the survivors of the assault on his bed chamber were rambling like maniacs to Tywin Lannister about dragons.

 

“He failed to hatch the dragons. I saw them fail!” Jaime Lannister insisted.

 

“I sent you away before you saw the successful attempt.” Harry said furiously as he walked into the hall with the four dragons clinging to him like very strange birds. Xeraxys was on his head, his little hooks digging into his scalp as he held onto his hair and his little head was cocked as he chirruped, looking at the two dozen people in the hall through bright gold eyes.

 

Men went mad, screaming like babes and throwing their swords down, falling to their knees and pledging fealty to him, begging for mercy and leniency.

 

“Burn them! Burn them all! _Dracarys_!” He roared and all four dragons understood that command and they took to flight, their bodies heating up like flying torches.

 

Their bodies were too heavy for their little, underdeveloped wings, and they flew very strangely, but their multi-coloured fire more than made up for it as they unleashed their flame on the intruders. They couldn’t melt metal or roast them in their armour, but any fabrics immediately caught aflame and that was all that was needed as men started running around, screaming, trying to claw off their cloaks or remove their armour to remove burning tunics or breeches.

The look on Tywin Lannister’s face was utterly priceless, then Harry caught sight of the body at the foot of the Iron Throne.

 

“You slayed my Father like he was mere cattle?!” He roared, smarting at the disrespect that had been showed to his family, even if he was glad that Aerys was finally dead, that was not the point. He had not been the King any longer and he would never have been King again, he had been no threat to him or to Rhaegar or to their family. He had been a mad old man, he had been no threat.

 

“He tried to kill you just yesterday! He was going to burn the whole city with wildfire with that queer alchemist Rossart, I had to do something, so I killed them both!” Jaime Lannister shouted back at him, drawing his sword. He was still wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard.

 

“ _You_ killed him? You dishonour that cloak!” Harry snarled. “You never deserved it in the first place and it was given to you in spite! I’ll enjoy ripping it from your dead body!”

 

“Let us not be hastened to action.” Tywin interrupted, trying to backtrack his actions.

 

“Shut your fucking mouth, Lannister! You have shown your true colours here today and your actions speak louder than any words that can now come from your mouth! Rhaegar and I have done nothing to you, yet you still stormed Kings Landing, where you knew that I was staying, to kill me! You assumed that Rhaegar would be defeated, that is why you are here, but you made the wrong decision! You have backed the wrong side!”

 

Baby Robb cried from the sling that Harry was wearing and he sighed and peered down at the boy to make sure that he was unharmed.

 

“You have a babe with you?”

 

“Oh, it’s not mine. It’s Stark’s Heir.” Harry replied. “If he gets involved in the war now, I’ll fling the boy from the Red Keep and into Blackwater Bay.”

 

“How ruthless of you.”

 

“War really does change people it seems. Xeraxys, don’t eat that sweet one, you’ll be sick.” Harry said to the little blue dragon, who was gnawing on a dead man who was still aflame. Harry was firm in his teachings and he had said as much to Rhaegar, to prevent as many accidents as they could they would not allow their dragons to eat human flesh. 

 

Xeraxys screeched and took flight, back to Harry, where he nuzzled him with a bloody muzzle.

 

“Don’t eat human flesh, sweet one. You only eat pork, mutton or beef.”

 

Jaime stepped forward and Harry narrowed his eyes on him, lifting his own sword. He was no match for the other, he knew it. He was no match for Jaime Lannister when he wasn’t six turns pregnant with blood pouring down his face and an infant strapped to his chest.

 

“Xeraxys, burn him.” Harry ordered the dragon on his shoulder.

 

“Perhaps we could reach another arrangement?!” Tywin cut in, standing from his seat in alarm.

 

“No.” Harry replied. “It is too late to talk now, the time for talking this out has gone. You chose your actions, Tywin and you’ve chosen wrong. That is your mistake and you will pay for it with fire and blood. Viserion, Rhaelys! _Dracarys_!”

 

Jaime tried to swing his gilt sword at the flying dragons, who were admittedly a little slow and Harry’s heart missed a beat as the sword almost took out his beautiful Viserion, who reared back in mid-air to avoid the swipe of the blade, only just in time.

 

“Burn him! _Dracarys_ , _Dracarys_!” Harry roared quickly and Rhaelys reacted to the order first, unleashing his green veined flames, followed by Viserion, whose fire was pale gold shot through with red and orange.

 

Xeraxys joined in from his shoulder and Harry smiled to see the tiny blue sparks. Jaime Lannister screamed terribly as his white cloak was consumed by the multi-coloured fire of three different dragons and Harry stared on dispassionately as the white cloak was burnt, as Jaime Lannister burnt under the triple assault of dragonfire.

 

“Stop this!” Tywin shouted, but Harry’s eyes flashed as his tiny red Pyrexian popped up silently from behind the chair that Tywin had been sat in.

 

“You brought this on yourself, Lannister. Know that I will take Casterly Rock from your family and I will marry your daughter to a loyal knight of absolutely no renown. You’re ruined, your family is ruined. I will take great pleasure in crushing the entire Lannister family. Pyrexian, _dracarys_!”

 

Pyrexian’s flame was as red as his bright, beautiful scales and Harry swallowed hard as Tywin Lannister was consumed by flame, as his son Jaime was. The stoic, unsmiling man screamed just the same as everyone else.

He watched silently as the flames around him burnt down and he was finally alone in the Great Hall with his dragons and charred, bloody lumps of meat. Jaime and Tywin were dead, their men were scattered and his Father, the only person still recognisable in the room, was dead also.

He stormed back to Maegor’s Holdfast, killing running men either with a sword thrust to the back or by dragonfire as he went. He was exhausted, he was sweating terribly and he was in desperate need of a drink of water, a bath and a bed, but he had to make safe his home now. The home that was never meant to have been breached in the first place. He had thought of everything, he had stored up as much food and water as he could, he had kept the smallfolk calm and safe, but the lions had already been inside the walls…just the one lion, Jaime Lannister.

He was angry, fucking livid and he refused all begs for mercy as he ended the lives of those who had dared come into his home, dared to kill his people and had dared to try to kill him too. Baby Robb still strapped to his chest, as he killed men left and right, the babe was quiet, hopefully he was sleeping again as Harry was sure that he was dripping blood onto him from his nose and forehead.

His four dragons were getting stronger even as he watched them, their fires reaching further and burning hotter, their wings straightening out a little as the muscles around their wing joints strengthened with so much use. He was so proud of them and they had to have been as exhausted as he was, they were only babies still, after all, just a little over a week old.

Still Harry didn’t rest, he couldn’t rest. Not while there were potentially hostile people in his home, in his city. He vomited a few times, mostly from exhaustion and fatigue, but he couldn’t stop. He had to make safe his city, make safe his people.

Once his people saw him, in a halo of dragonfire and carrying a bloody sword, beating back the Lannister intruders from the Red Keep, they were moved to anger and ideas of revenge as well, away from the fear and terror of a few minutes before, and they picked up what they could, anything they could, broken wooden beams, kitchen utensils, swords from dead men, and they charged through Kings Landing, protecting themselves, avenging their neighbours or family, making safe their home as he led by example.

 

“Drive them out!” Harry roared to his smallfolk. “These scum who have killed the King, Aerys the second, and would have slain me too! These men who would have raped your daughters, your wives! These men who would have cut your throats and stolen your possessions and valuables! Drive them all out, kill them!”

 

The smallfolk screamed in inarticulate rage and with renewed vigour as Harry roused them from fear and panic to anger and hostility, they attacked any man wearing red and gold or with a lion on their breasts. Harry left them to it, left them with the vision of him, tall and strong, if a bit bloody, even as he ducked out of the way and vomited into a bush. He was six turns pregnant, this level of activity was highly unwise.

He made his way back to the Red Keep, killing as he went, and he pushed away his exhaustion, wiping his face free of blood yet again. He went hunting, finding all the craven men still skulking around the Red Keep like shades, all the men hiding in crevices and praying not to be found. He routed them all out with his four dragons and then he went to his most favourite place that wasn’t in Rhaegar’s arms. The silent, untouched godswood.

He settled under the heart tree and he let his dragons roam through the thick trees and flowers. He cradled baby Robb, cleaning his soft, innocent face free of the blood that had dripped onto him, thinking of his own babes. His beautiful, fierce Rhaegon and his beautiful, sweet girls, Haeraenya and Helaena. He hadn’t seen them in over half a year now and the thought brought a prickle of tears to his eyes. He hoped that Rhaegar was alright, that he and Balerion had crushed the rebel forces. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to secure his family on the throne, he wanted to publically announce his marriage to Rhaegar. He wanted to hold and love his children as his own children, not someone else’s. The only good thing to come from this sacking was that Jaime Lannister had killed Aerys. He had been the biggest obstacle in his and Rhaegar’s lives for so many years now and suddenly, with one moment, he was gone and they were free to claim the throne for themselves, free to claim their love for all to hear, free to claim their children as their own. Their beautiful, growing family.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Barristan was almost sick as he rode into Kings Landing. He hadn’t wanted to believe the taunts of Robert Baratheon, nor the news carried to them by a messenger a few days later as they rode down the Kingsroad with all speed, telling them that the capital had been attacked the day before, that Aerys and Haradarian had been slain by Lannister men in the name of Robert Baratheon and the capital had fallen and was now flying the lion of Lannister.

The city was smouldering from where the fires had been put out and there were bodies piled high everywhere. The Lannister lion was indeed flying high on the battlements and from the Red Keep too.

Prince Rhaegar, exhausted and unrested, rode his tired, sweating horse straight to the Red Keep and straight into the Great Hall, his remaining Kingsguard following him, and there they found a dozen charred bodies that were unrecognisable and one body by the steps of the Iron Throne, pooled in blood. That body was of Aerys the second. The messenger had been telling them the truth.

Rhaegar leapt from his horse and he looked around almost desperately before he took off running, over the serpentine steps and to Maegor’s Holdfast. The Kingsguard once again followed him, ignoring their own exhaustion as they followed their new King down and then back up the serpentine steps, over Maegor’s bridge and into the small castle that the royal family ate and slept in.

Even the Holdfast was desecrated, there were scorch marks everywhere, tapestries were ripped, ancient ancestral armour was knocked over and there was blood smeared all over the walls and floors and bodies all over the corridors. The servants, gold cloaks, some loyal knights who had stayed with Haradarian…they were all dead.

Rhaegar all but run to Haradarian’s bed chamber, to find more charred bodies and blood and the untidy room empty.

 

“Haradarian! Harry, where are you?!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off of the empty stone walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. “Oh gods, what if he’s dead?”

 

“He’s too resourceful.” Ser Arthur said as he nursed an injured arm. “Only dragons could have charred these bodies like this, unless someone was running around with wildfire. You said that he had four dragons here with him?”

 

Rhaegar nodded before shouting out at the top of his lungs. “HARRY?!”

 

There was no answer and all of them feared the worst, that Haradarian was dead and that the charred bodies had come from the out of control dragons that had been set loose in Kings Landing, even as Rhaegar ripped through, first Haradarian’s rooms and then his own bed chamber, before running back out.

 

“Where would he be?” Rhaegar said desperately.

 

“They might have put his body…”

 

“Don’t!” Rhaegar ordered poisonously. “He’s not dead. He can’t be dead! He can’t leave me like this…not like this.”

 

Barristan startled as a memory jolted free of his mind, of the last time that Haradarian had gone missing in such a way. “The godswood.” He said. “If he were anywhere in this madness, it would be in the godswood.”

 

Rhaegar stared at him for a moment, digesting his words, and then he was gone, running back out of Maegor’s Holdfast and back over the serpentine steps. He tore into the godswood, shouting his brother’s name. They got closer to the heart tree and Rhaegar yelled out again and then they heard an answering yell.

 

“Stop your fucking yelling! If you wake up Stark’s babe I’ll rip out your damn tongue!”

 

Barristan had never been so happy to see the angry face of Haradarian Targaryen in all of his life as they burst through the wild trees, to the clearing of the heart tree and found him drenched in blood, a blooded sword over his lap. He looked absolutely awful.

Rhaegar rushed to him, falling to his knees beside him and he embraced his brother tightly.

 

“I thought that you were dead.” Rhaegar cried, almost a sob at the delayed reaction to thinking that his brother had been killed.

 

“As if these cowardly lions could have taken on a dragon, much less four of them.” Harry smiled softly, wrapping his arms around Rhaegar’s neck. “By the gods it’s good to see you again. You look exhausted.”

 

“You’re covered in blood, are you alright?” Rhaegar asked, tearfully. “Are you unhurt?”

 

“This is mostly other’s blood, brother. I went on a killing spree when I realised that our home had been invaded, so stop fretting. I’m almost completely unhurt, except for my forehead and nose and my left shoulder.”

 

Rhaegar cupped his brother’s face gently before he touched the mentioned shoulder with the barest brush of his fingertips. “What happened?”

 

“I got smashed in the face with a door and Father stabbed me in the back with a table knife he hid from the servant who brought him his meal.”

 

“Did _you_ kill him?” Rhaegar asked in shock.

 

“No, of course not, Jaime Lannister did. He also convinced Father to let his Father into the city before he killed him and that creepy alchemist, Rossart. I killed both Lannisters for their part in this.”

 

“Why didn’t you overrule Father? You were the King here, not him.”

 

“He’d stabbed me in the shoulder!” Harry said angrily. “I was cleaning the wound and attending to it in my bed chamber at the time. I didn’t expect anyone to even follow his orders, but I think Jaime Lannister again had a part in that. I believe that Jaime Lannister convinced Father to send the orders to open the gates to Tywin and then slew Father and Rossart. By the time I knew anything about it, Lannister’s men had already sacked Kings Landing and they were in the Red Keep.”

 

“What happened then?” Rhaegar asked as he got Harry sat in his lap and stroked his sweaty hair from his blooded face.

 

“Maegor’s Holdfast was infiltrated quickly. I’m sure Jaime knew where I was and he told his Father’s men where to find me. I barricaded the outside door and the connecting one, pushed baby Robb into the far corner, in the cradle and then I got into my armour and got my sword. When I was ready, I took away the blockade and that happened to be the exact moment that someone barged the door and it flew into my face. Oh, but you should have seen their faces when they saw Rhaelys on my shoulder, they all sort of froze in mid motion. It was very amusing now that I look back upon it.”

 

“Baratheon’s face was a picture too, when I showed him our Balerion.”

 

“Where is Balerion?” Harry asked.

 

Rhaegar opened the bag that he was carrying and pulled out the sleeping dragon.

 

“Oh, he’s gotten so big.” Harry said as he took his babe and cradled him gently.

 

“How are our other four?”

 

“Oh, they’re so beautiful, Rhaegar. They’re taking direction really well, though I had to stop them from eating the bodies that they’d burnt. They saw them as food, so I stopped that and chastised them for eating human flesh, but other than that, they were magnificent!”

 

“Where are they?”

 

“They’re roaming around the godswood, playing with one another.”

 

Harry let out an ear-piercing, terrifying screech of a call that startled even Rhaegar, but Barristan was stunned when one after another, four dragons hobbled out of the trees all around them using their forewings, to answer the terrible call of Haradarian, all except for the one, a beautiful deep green and bronze dragon, who flew in from a height and landed on Rhaegar’s shoulder, nuzzling him.

Haradarian smiled as he checked on the tiny babe with red curls who was sleeping in a sling tied to Haradarian’s body. He was sleeping peacefully and he seemed as plump as all babes were and he was healthy and completely unharmed. Barristan smiled proudly. He had known deeply within himself that his boy would never have harmed an innocent babe.

 

“We chased Stark off to Riverrun. He did take part in the battle at the Trident though.” Rhaegar sighed as he looked at the babe.

 

“Then there’s only one thing to do. Little Robb will stay here at Kings Landing as a hostage for the rest of his life. The same with little Renly Baratheon. He’s a boy of six years old, even if he had any clue what was going on in the first place then he wouldn’t have had any say in the matter or any true understanding of what was going to happen. He won’t be harmed. Stannis Baratheon must be put to death.”

 

Rhaegar nodded his agreement. “We need to start cleaning things up here. There’s been a lot of damage done.”

 

Harry nodded. “I was so exhausted that just getting over the serpentine steps was torture, but I went down to the city and rallied the smallfolk and they started attacking the fleeing Lannister men too, they’ve all seen the dragons now though, so we can’t hide them any longer. After that I came back and I routed out the Red Keep and Maegor’s Holdfast. I needed some peace though, away from the carnage and horror, so I came here. I stayed here all night and I haven’t moved since. I haven’t wanted to.”

 

“You’re six turns now, how are you feeling?”

 

“Tired!” Harry replied. “How many casualties have you sustained?”

 

“Over a thousand.” Rhaegar said and then sent a sad look to the Kingsguard.

 

Barristan watched as Haradarian followed his brother’s line of sight and he could almost see him counting them. The young man swallowed heavily, visibly.

 

“Where are Ser Jon and Ser Gerold?” He asked as calmly as he could, but his voice still wavered, his eyes already filling up with tears.

 

“They didn’t make it, Harry.” Rhaegar said softly.

 

Two tears fell smoothly down soft cheeks, cutting a clear path through the blood on Haradarian’s face and they were followed by many more as Haradarian flung his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and he sobbed for their two fallen sworn brothers.

 

“They gave their lives saving Rhaegar, as we are sworn to do.” Prince Lewyn gave a pained smile. “All of us, if we could choose a way to go, it would always be in the defence of our royal family.”

 

Barristan murmured his agreement of Prince Lewyn’s words with his remaining brothers, but he was touched that they meant so much to their little Prince. It was humbling to know that they weren’t just disposable bodies to him. That they weren’t just human shields.

Haradarian brushed his tears away and he stood, very clumsily, with the help of Rhaegar and he stumbled when he did get his feet under him.

 

“Are you sure that you’re uninjured?” Rhaegar asked worriedly. “You didn’t get a wound while fighting without knowing?”

 

“I’m fine, just really tired. We need to make safe the city. Pull your army inside the city and seal the gates, Rhaegar. I’ll send word to Mace and hopefully Storm’s End will surrender. There’s no point to carrying on the siege, they can’t stay in the fortress forever, they would have run out of food more than a turn ago. But we need to rebuild Kings Landing, burn the dead and then make things as easy and as painless for the smallfolk as we can.”

 

“You need to rest.” Rhaegar said sternly.

 

“I’ve had enough resting, I’ve been sat here overnight. We need to call for Stark to come here to answer for his crimes. Tully and Arryn too.”

 

“Jon Arryn was killed at the Trident. Tully was taken captive.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“I finally have a good reason to destroy that ugly Eyrie!” Harry giggled happily. “We’ll wait until Balerion is bigger and then we’ll take him up there and crush it!”

 

“You’ve never liked it.” Rhaegar smiled.

 

“I almost fucking died!” Haradarian complained and Barristan smiled, remembering holding the tiny six year old boy tightly to his chest as he sobbed, praying that his own donkey didn’t stumble and slip down the mountain. Haradarian had hated every single moment of his six day visit to the Eyrie.

 

“Have you eaten?” Rhaegar asked him concernedly.

 

“Not recently. It’s been over a full day since I last ate anything, almost two.”

 

“We’ll get you something to eat first, even if it’s camp food.” Rhaegar said. “You can make a plan of what needs to be done and in what order while we write to Mace Tyrell and to Riverrun.”

 

Harry sighed and he allowed his brother to lead him to the royal solar in Maegor’s Holdfast, almost carrying him down and then up the serpentine steps, their five dragons flying above them.

Rhaegar waited on his brother and took the babe, Robb, from him, putting him on a soft chair and covering him over with the completely undamaged blanket that Queen Rhaella had made.

 

“Did Grand Maester Gormon survive?” Harry asked.

 

“I shall go to his rooms and see immediately.” Ser Oswell said tiredly, moving off, back over the serpentine steps to the Grand Maester’s rooms.

 

“Everything’s such a mess.” Harry sighed exhaustedly.

 

“Maybe, but it’s over now.” Rhaegar soothed as he found something edible for Haradarian and then watched him eat.

 

“I won’t bring home the women and children just yet.” Harry sighed. “Not with Kings Landing in this state. Perhaps they might like to visit Dorne for a while?”

 

“I think that might be for the best.” Rhaegar smiled. “Ser Arthur, Prince Lewyn. It’s been a while since you last got to go home. Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort our family while in Dorne.”

 

“Of course, your Grace.” Ser Arthur agreed.

 

“I would be honoured.” Prince Lewyn smiled.

 

“We have three open slots on the Kingsguard.” Rhaegar prodded gently.

 

“Don’t.” Harry replied. “It’s too soon. Two dead and one who betrayed us and should never have worn the cloak in the first place. He was a disgrace.”

 

“He has paid for his disgrace, his betrayal, with his life.” Rhaegar said seriously.

 

“He saw us fail to hatch our eggs. You should have been here to see his face when he saw them with his own eyes. They tried to plead mercy, they tried to stall me from action, but Father’s body was just behind them, bleeding onto the floor like a sacrificed bull. I could hear the screams, smell the smoke and the blood as Kings Landing was sacked. I was not in a very merciful mood, especially not after being attacked, on their orders, in my own bed chamber.”

 

“I would imagine not.” Rhaegar said, before he sighed and sat down himself.

 

“You haven’t slept yet either.”

 

“No.” Rhaegar said softly. “When Baratheon boasted that he had made a marriage deal with Tywin Lannister for his daughter, Cersei, I knew then which horse Tywin had backed. I was frantic when Baratheon told me that Tywin was moving his host to attack Kings Landing. I finished him off with Kingsfire, after Balerion had set him on fire that was, and then I rode straight from the Trident. I didn’t stop more than I absolutely had to and I almost crippled my horse riding in the dark and then we met a messenger on the Kingsroad, who told us what I had most feared, that Kings Landing was aflame, flying the lion of Lannister and that you had been killed.”

 

“I had not yet been killed and as it seems, I was not to be killed during this attack. But Kingsfire, really? The Valyrian blade?” Harry smiled as he heard the name the blade had been given.

 

“I thought it fitting, we are both kings and we are surrounded by fire with these five babes.” Rhaegar said, stroking Pyrexian’s head, the little red dragon was perched on his shoulder.

 

Ser Oswell came back, escorting the frightened looking Grand Maester Gormon.

 

“Your Grace, I am so thankful to see you alive.” Gormon Tyrell quivered.

 

“I am happy to see that you escaped the madness.” Harry said genuinely.

 

“As soon as I saw what was happening, I barricaded the door and sent out ravens. I was worried that the fire might reach me, but thank all the gods that it didn’t.”

 

Harry nodded. “I need a messenger sent to Mace at Storm’s End and one sent to Riverrun. Stark fled there after Baratheon’s death. He will keep the Kings’ peace now that the rebellion is over. We have his boy.” Harry indicated the sleeping babe. “If he wants the boy to be unharmed, he will give himself over to the Kings’ Justice.”

 

“Robert’s rebellion was doomed from the start.” Rhaegar said as he drank some water from a skin. “It was ill thought out and over a missing girl who was found at Moat Cailin a week after Brandon Stark accused me of taking her.”

 

“She was _walking_ to Kings Landing to come for you.” Harry giggled.

 

“Quite what she would have done had she actually reached here is entirely beyond me. It was more likely that she would have run afoul of a group of outlaws.” Rhaegar smiled to hear Haradarian’s laughter.

 

It soothed him, cleansed his mind and heart. It was starting to sink in, they had made it, they had survived and the relief that he felt at that kept him touching Harry, unable to stop himself. He bent forward and kissed a soft, smooth, if slightly bloody, cheek.

 

“I’m so relieved that you’re alright.”

 

Harry turned and he pulled Rhaegar’s head to his and he kissed him full on the mouth. It was not a brief peck on the lips either as they both held onto one another, their mouths lingering, touching, just reconnecting to one another. Grand Maester Gormon gasped so loudly at the kiss that Harry startled and looked at him concernedly.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“You…you kissed him as if kissing a lover.”

 

“Yes, Rhaegar and I are lovers.” He said easily, seeing no need to hide as such now that Aerys was dead and the rebellion was put down.

 

Rhaegar threw an arm around Haradarian’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, kissing the side of his head gently.

 

“Lo…lovers?” Grand Maester Gormon stuttered.

 

“I had my suspicions.” Ser Oswell sighed even more tiredly. “Some of your conversations have been a bit…odd, to say the least over the years. I had wondered as far back as the tourney at Harrenhal, that’s when I became really suspicious.”

 

“I saw the same at Harrenhal.” Barristan nodded. “Then I witnessed the kisses between you when you presented Rhaegar with Kingsfire.”

 

“You two are quiet, did you not notice?” Ser Oswell asked Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn as they remained silent.

 

“We knew from the start.” Ser Arthur said. “Or what I imagine was the start.”

 

“It wasn’t the start of our plans, but you were involved from the start of our true relationship.”

 

“How long has this been…going on?” Barristan asked.

 

“For years now.” Harry replied happily. “But it became a… _sexual_ relationship when I was five-and-ten, it will be exactly four years in two turns, just before our Rhaegon’s third name day.”

 

“You are only just nine-and-ten now!” Ser Oswell complained.

 

Harry nodded. “I knew when I was eleven that I wanted to marry Rhaegar, I loved him.”

 

“Marry him?” Barristan said in shock. “You are married to Ashara and…and you both knew of this.” He said turning to Lewyn Martell and Arthur Dayne as his mind made sense of what he was being told. “Elia and Ashara are your kin…they are in on this too.”

 

“They are. We married them only to keep ourselves safer from Father. He is now dead and we need not fear him. He cannot null our marriage now that he is dead.” Harry explained.

 

“You’re already married?!” Ser Oswell asked, shocked.

 

Harry nodded. “We married after I arrived back from Oldtown, when I was five-and-ten. Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn were witnesses along with Jon Connington. Our marriage to the girls are voided because we have never consummated.”

 

“Not to mention our marriages to them were automatically voided because we were married to one another first.” Rhaegar said softly.

 

“So…Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena truly are bastard born?” Ser Oswell asked.

 

Harry sighed. “No. They’re the true born babes of Rhaegar and I. It’s rather difficult to believe, Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur had a hard time believing it too, until I birthed Haeraenya and Helaena with them in the room with me.”

 

“So, you are really a woman?” Ser Oswell asked. “I did wonder from time to time if you truly were a…”

 

“No!” Harry shouted. “Why does everyone say that I look like a woman? I don’t!”

 

“You sort of do.” Rhaegar teased him.

 

“Shut your mouth, Rhaegar!” He said, turning away from his Husband angrily, who smiled adoringly at him.

 

“If you aren’t a woman, then how…how is it even possible?”

 

“It isn’t!” Grand Maester Gormon insisted.

 

Harry scoffed and he stood up. He unlaced his jerkin, slipping it off and then he pulled off his tunic, with Rhaegar’s help because of his injured shoulder, exposing his softly mounded breasts and the big bump.

 

“I’m six turns pregnant with our fourth child.” Harry said. “Stop looking at my breasts, Lewyn and look at the bump instead!” He snapped at Lewyn Martell.

 

“Sorry, they’re so adorable.” Prince Lewyn laughed. “They’re so tiny.”

 

“It’s because I’m a man.” Harry sighed, smiling as Rhaegar wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged his bump before raising his hands to cover the tiny mounds of his breasts. “I’ve carried my three babes inside of myself and I have to cut them out.”

 

“Cut them out?” Barristan asked worriedly, with more than a little bit of alarm thrown in.

 

Haradarian pushed down his breeches a few inches and there were several, thick, ugly scars across his lower belly, just before his groin. Barristan flinched to see them, knowing that those would have hurt terribly.

 

“If you still disbelieve me, then you can come into my chambers and watch me birth this babe, as Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur watched the birth of Haeraenya and Helaena.”

 

“There is no Malana Maegyr, is there?” Barristan asked gently.

 

Harry shook his head. “No. I was never married before Rhaegar. We did travel to the free cities, but as soon as we realised that I was pregnant, we made our way back to Volantis and then over to Dragonstone. I birthed Rhaegon on Dragonstone, he was not born in Volantis. But for the sake of adding authenticity to our fabrication, we had to say that he was born in Volantis, that we buried my fictitious wife there before sailing home, when in reality I was stuck in my bed chambers, birthing my son and I was in pain for weeks afterwards, not grieving as we told others.”

 

“I don’t…I don’t believe this.” Ser Oswell exclaimed.

 

Harry approached him and picked up his hand and pressed it to his belly. The baby within, the calmest of all his babes thus far, was shifting slightly and Harry poked at his own side to keep the babe moving and Ser Oswell cursed and all but leapt back from him.

 

“It’s moving!” He exclaimed.

 

“It’s six turns old, almost seven, of course the babe is moving.” Harry scathed. “I birthed Rhaegon at seven turns, though Haeraenya and Helaena made it to nine.”

 

“You had to make it to nine so that we could claim Elia was seven turns.” Rhaegar said, coming back to hug him around the waist, unwilling to let him go and unwilling to be more than an arm’s span away from him.

 

“Do you know how difficult that was?!” Harry demanded of his husband. “I was so pained carrying the two of them that I couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings!”

 

“I was very proud of you.” Rhaegar praised him easily.

 

“You apologised to Rhaegar when you…when you broke down after your captivity.” Ser Oswell said and Harry dropped his head in sadness.

 

“I did. He was my Husband at the time and I felt that I had betrayed him. I felt filthy, used, to be touched by a man who wasn’t my beloved Husband sickened me.”

 

“It was not your fault.” Rhaegar insisted sternly. “He touched you without your permission, he took what you did not expressly give him and for that, no blame can be laid upon you.”

 

“I was pregnant when I was a captive.” Harry said sadly to those in the room. “Two turns. Due to the…the treatment that I received, I miscarried our second babe.”

 

“That was not your fault either.” Rhaegar told him gently. “We have moved on from that, no one will ever touch you again, no one will get the chance to forcibly make you miscarry again.” He said as he laid a hand over his swollen belly.

 

“You fought while six turns pregnant!” Ser Arthur exclaimed in sudden realisation.

 

Harry chuckled. “I never meant to. That is why I stayed here, in Kings Landing when strictly, I should have been at Rhaegar’s side, fighting with him. The sack of King Landing was never supposed to have happened. I was supposed to have been safe here, behind the walls and the sealed gates. We had enough food, morale was not particularly high, but it was higher that it should have been for such a time of war. We were safe, we were doing well and then Jaime Lannister let his Father into the city and they, who had declared for Robert Baratheon, sacked the city, killing all the people here, burning and raping. I could not stand idly by and do nothing. So no, I was never supposed to have been involved in the fighting, as I was six turns pregnant and thus I cannot move as easily, but I had no other choice. But I think we have both come through this well enough.” He smiled as he patted his bump, feeling his babe move slightly inside of him.

 

“I’m just thankful that you’re alright, my love.”

 

“I was so relieved to see you.” Harry smiled. “I’ve been so worried.”

 

“It is done now. We have won. We will send Mother and the others to Dorne while we rebuild Kings Landing and set everything to rights and then they’ll be home and things can go back to normal. You may yet have had our fourth babe by that time.” Rhaegar said.

 

“It would not surprise me. The stress of the last half a year has not been good for this babe. I am smaller than I should be and it worries me.”

 

“Try not to worry needlessly.” Rhaegar encouraged. “The babe is moving, surely that is a good sign?”

 

Harry nodded. “It is, but we won’t know for sure until after the babe is born.”

 

“You need your head sorted out.” Rhaegar told him concernedly, brushing away stray hairs that were matted with dried blood from Haradarian’s bloody forehead.

 

Grand Maester Gormon tentatively stepped forward, and when he wasn’t chastised for approaching the two of them, he stepped forward with more confidence as he sat at Haradarian’s other side and peered at the head wound and the cut on the bridge of Haradarian’s nose.

 

“I have had a look at it and they seem shallow enough.” Harry insisted, even as he subjected himself to the examination.

 

“They do seem rather shallow, they have been cleaned too, but not too thoroughly.”

 

“I never had the time to clean them properly. I just washed them out with a skin of wine.” 

 

Grand Maester Gormon nodded as he inspected the cuts. “They just need some tending, but they won’t require stitching. They will heal themselves. What about this shoulder injury?”

 

Harry turned and Barristan sucked in a deep breath through his teeth at the wound.

 

“I couldn’t reach this one properly, but it was cleaned out as well as I could manage.”

 

“I can see.” The Grand Maester nodded as he peered at the cut. “It looks worse than it is due to the bruising around it. It is rather shallow too.”

 

They all ignored the obvious. They tried to pretend that Haradarian wasn’t a pregnant man in their midst and that he had carried and birthed three children already, that he was carrying a fourth babe that would also have to come out very soon.

 

“Will he be alright?” Rhaegar asked and Barristan couldn’t believe that he had never noticed the love, the concern that went far beyond mere brotherly love before. It was so obvious to his eyes now that he knew about it as he watched Rhaegar look at Haradarian and Haradarian smile back at Rhaegar. They acted like lovers and though he had known that something was going on between them, he’d had no idea that this was even a possibility.

 

“He’s going to be just fine.” Grand Maester Gormon insisted. “As far as I know.” He added looking at the bump with a bit of fearful trepidation.

 

“I’ll be fine. A week from now would be the exact gestation that I birthed Rhaegon at, almost three years ago now and he’s completely fine, better than fine really.”

 

“He’s growing so quickly.” Rhaegar agreed.

 

“I want him back here before his third name day.” Harry insisted.

 

“We’ll send a raven to Dragonstone and then Sers, if you could escort them to Dorne and then have them back here for Rhaegon’s third name day, we would be grateful.” Rhaegar said, first to Harry and then to Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn.

 

“Let’s get to it then.” Harry said enthusiastically.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, except to bed!” Rhaegar said firmly. “You’ve had enough activity to last for the rest of your pregnancy.”

 

“This clean up won’t happen by itself.” Harry huffed.

 

“No, it won’t, but I’m more than capable of handling it myself.”

 

“Your Grace.” Barristan spoke carefully. “Perhaps you should rest too, your ribs.”

 

“His ribs?” Harry echoed before looking at Rhaegar. “Your ribs, what about your ribs? What have you done now that you aren’t telling me?”

 

Rhaegar seemed to only remember that he’d been hurt at that moment because he grimaced in pain and touched the dent in his armour. Harry watched him and his eyes widened at the deeply dented black armour.

 

“Oh, by the Seven, don’t tell me that that’s what I think it is!” Haradarian demanded.

 

“I suppose that depends on what you think it is.” Rhaegar tried to play off lightly.

 

“Is that caused by Baratheon’s fucking warhammer or not?” Haradarian demanded furiously.

 

“It was, but it wasn’t the pointed side.”

 

“I can see that it wasn’t the pointed side, if it had been, you wouldn’t be here right now, would you?!”

 

Haradarian stood and he carefully unbuckled the breastplate.

 

“If you die from this, I’ll never forgive you.” Haradarian insisted.

 

Rhaegar smiled and pulled his younger brother into a kiss. “I love you.” He said calmly and sincerely. “With all that I am and I will die happy knowing that I’d gotten a chance to have true love and happiness with you.”

 

“You’re not going to die!” Harry hissed out through gritted teeth. “Not until I’ve seen the damage that you’ve done to yourself and I throttle you for it!”

 

“I think that’s counterproductive.” Rhaegar said easily.

 

“Oh, you do, do you?” Harry snarled as he oh so gently eased the one side of the breastplate off of his brother’s torso, completely at odds with his furious tone of voice. “I think it’ll prevent any more utterly stupid situations such as this and save us all some heartache!”

 

“Bit of an extreme measure.” Rhaegar teased, his eyes screwed closed and his voice high and stuttered, likely from pain, as the dented side of the breastplate was very carefully eased away from his body. Barristan breathed a little easier when Rhaegar didn’t immediately keel over, but he knew that the dangers were not over just yet.

 

“Extreme? Oh no. Extreme is me tying you to our bed because you can mark my words on this, you will not be leaving that bed until I’m wholly satisfied that you are healed and won’t be doing anything of this sort ever again.”

 

“I’ll be there for the rest of our lives then.”

 

“Well, the rest of yours.” Harry teased. “We both know that I’ll definitely outlive you. I’m too stubborn to die.”

 

“Now that I can agree with, you already act like a withered old crone.” Rhaegar chuckled before he sucked in a breath as Haradarian’s long, slim fingers probed under his tunic.

 

“Breathe in deeply for me, my love.” Haradarian encouraged, very seriously and Barristan watched as Rhaegar’s chest inflated as he breathed in as deeply as he possibly could. “Hold it. Hold it!” Haradarian told him, his fingers moving and touching, even as his other hand touched and held to the pulse point in Rhaegar’s neck. “Slowly… _slowly_ exhale, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar did as instructed and Haradarian nodded to himself and he eased the damp, filthy tunic from Rhaegar’s body and Barristan was almost too afraid to look, but he kept his eyes on his King and he swallowed hard at the sight of the hideous black-purple bruise that had taken over the one side of Rhaegar’s body.

 

“This bruise goes bone deep.” Harry said seriously as Rhaegar peered at his own injury for the first time. “It’s going to be painful and it’ll restrict your movements until it’s fully healed, but though I fear a few ribs have cracked, none of them are out of place and you’re breathing normally enough. You’re in no danger of dying from this injury, but I’ll tell you now that it was a very close call, a more powerful blow, if you’d been a bit closer to Baratheon when he’d swung, and we might not be speaking right now.”

 

“Not to mention he almost drowned in the Trident afterwards.” Prince Lewyn put in helpfully.

 

Harry closed his eyes and he breathed deeply himself, in order to calm his hammering heart and his circling thoughts.

 

“I want you in bed and you will stay there until I deem you healthy enough to get back up. There’s nothing that I can do about your stupidity, it has no cure and no matter how much I want to confine you permanently to our bed for your own safety, alas I cannot.” Harry said seriously. “You will be there for some weeks, it’ll take that long for your cracked ribs to fuse back together and though they’ll never be as strong as they once were, they at least won’t cave in if you get hit in that spot again, but please, no more hammer blows.”

 

“No more hammers.” Rhaegar said as he breathed in relief, pulling Harry in close and just holding him.

 

They stayed that way silently, for several long minutes, just relishing in the other’s survival. They had come out of this rebellion, this war, relatively unscathed and bar a few injuries and one death, the royal family was completely unchanged and they were well enough and they would recover.

The Kingsguard was a different matter, however. They had lost two good, great men to Robert Baratheon personally. Ser Gerold Hightower, the white bull, named as such for his incredible strength, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, a man who had taught all of them what an honour it was, what it meant to wear a white cloak and to serve the royal family in the manner that they were supposed to and they had lost Ser Jonothor Darry, whose brother Ser Willem was on Dragonstone, guarding the Queen and the other ladies and the children, who didn’t yet know that his brother had not survived the war.

Then there was Jaime Lannister, a dead, charred lump of bloody meat on the Great Hall floor. A man who had turned his cloak, a cloak that was pure white and was duty, honour and oath bound to never turn, but turn he had. He had turned back to his birth house, forsaking the royal family that he was sworn to protect with his very life. He had killed King Aerys personally and likely would have done the same to Haradarian if given the chance, he would be buried as a Kingslayer and he would forever be remembered as a Kingslayer. The first Kingsguard member in history to ever kill a member of the royal family, such was his lack of honour and lack of discipline.

It was a true shame, because he’d had endless, boundless potential to have been the greatest knight and swordsman of all time, taking the current honour bestowed upon Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, whose arm was currently haphazardly bandaged up.

 

“How is your arm?” Barristan asked his brother.

 

Ser Arthur looked at him and then down at his arm, wrapped in parts of his own torn cloak.

 

“Whose arm?” Haradarian asked, pulling back at the mention of another injury and looking at the four of them suspiciously.

 

“I took a graze to the arm, nothing to fret about.” Ser Arthur insisted.

 

“Sit down, I’m not taking that chance. Ashara would have my balls decorating her bed chambers if I didn’t see to your injuries.”

 

Rhaegar laughed and Barristan had to smile as the air immediately lightened and it began truly sinking in. They had won. They had all survived relatively unscathed and they had won. There was truly no better feeling than this.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

It was the scream that woke him in the middle of the night. A sudden, blood curdling, agonising scream and Rhaegar about rolled out of the bed in fright.

He turned over and looked at Harry’s red, sweaty face, the too wide eyes, he heard the harsh panting and he knew what was happening immediately…his fourth child was ready to be born.

He flew up out of the bed and he rushed to the door. He unbolted it and pulled it open to meet the sword of Ser Arthur, who was on guard outside their rooms.

 

“The babe is ready to be born.” Rhaegar told him shortly. “I need all of the Kingsguard, and Grand Maester Gormon here. Send a servant to get boiled water, quickly, Harry needs to birth the babe quickly.”

 

Rhaegar ducked back into the room and he hurried to light several more candles and torches before going back to the bed and to Harry’s side.

 

“I can’t do it.” Harry sobbed to him.

 

“Of course you can, my love. You have done it twice before, four if you include our dragon babes. You’ve done this before and you can do it again now. I have faith in you.”

 

Harry reached out for him and Rhaegar held him tightly, hearing Harry’s laboured breathing in his ear, feeling the wetness from either his tears, his nose or perhaps his mouth, he didn’t know, he didn’t care as he stroked Harry’s hair and whispered soothingly to him.

Barristan Selmy, recently raised to the Lord Commander position, came striding into the room and he stopped dead, as he took in the scene in front of him.

 

“Ser, there is a hard leather case in that chest, can you fetch it for me?” Rhaegar asked as he slipped Harry’s sleeping tunic off of him, holding him to his chest gently.

 

Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell joined Ser Barristan and they kept their distance as Rhaegar slipped Harry down onto his back. His baby bump was harshly exposed as Prince Lewyn hurried around the room, lighting even more candles and torches to cast more light for them to work with. Haradarian would have gone into labour in the middle of the night, just to make things a little more awkward.

Ser Arthur hurried into the room with Grand Maester Gormon and a large kettle of water.

 

“It’s too soon, it’s too soon!” Harry babbled.

 

“It’s not too soon.” Rhaegar soothed. “Rhaegon was born at this gestation and he was completely fine, he is still completely fine. You’ll be fine.”

 

“What do you need us to do, your Grace?”

 

Rhaegar turned. “I need that dagger.”

 

Ser Arthur was the one to grab it from the shelf and he handed it to Rhaegar, who unsheathed it, submerged it in the kettle of remaining water and wiped it off with a square of clean linen.

 

“Here we go again, my love. It’s all set up, it’s time.”

 

Harry was breathing deeply, his eyes unfocused and Rhaegar pushed the dagger into his hand and held it tightly, supportively.

 

“I can’t do it.” He wailed.

 

“Yes you can, you’ve done this before.”

 

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Harry told him and Ser Oswell actually startled at that declaration, automatically taking a step forward to defend Rhaegar, but realising that he couldn’t protect him from someone else that he was sworn to protect.

 

“He doesn’t mean it.” Rhaegar assured the Kingsguard. “He’s threatened to kill me with every labour. It’s his way of dealing with the pain.”

 

“This time I really will fucking kill you, you rat bastard!”

 

Rhaegar just smiled at the threats and he angled the blade, in Harry’s hand, to the line of scar tissue that marked where the blade had to be inserted. It was hard forcing himself to slice into his beloved Husband. It was harder listening to the almost inhuman screech of agony as the blade bit into skin.

With the next tug, the scream that Harry emitted echoed around the room and Rhaegar let him scream. They didn’t have to hide anymore, Harry could scream as much as he liked and it was more terrible than Rhaegar could have possibly imagined as every scream, wail and grunt ripped through his heart as he tore through Harry’s skin, opening him up, trying to work around the brilliant red blood. It was so raw after the battles that he had fought in, seeing men dying, seeing men wailing as Harry was, as they held their insides in their hands from gut wounds similar to those that he was inflicting upon Harry, his hands stained with his Husband’s blood. He shivered and steeled himself. Harry needed him.

 

“Can’t, no…NO!” Harry yelled out and one foot slammed into the feather mattress as the next scream echoed in Rhaegar’s ears, changing in pitch to get higher and shriller.

 

“Is the bowl ready?” Rhaegar demanded over Harry’s screams as he hacked through Harry’s body. The scar tissue made cutting the skin very, very difficult and he had to use much more force than the previous pregnancies to cut Harry open.   

 

“Yes, your Grace.” Prince Lewyn insisted, holding the bowl of boiled water in his arms ready.

 

Harry almost cut him off with a screech so loud that every servant in the Holdfast would have woken with it.

 

“Get it the fuck out of me!” Harry yelled into his face, his green eyes wide and crazed with pain. Rhaegar hated seeing Harry this way.

 

“Ser Arthur, you remember how to make the healing solution?”

 

“Yes, your Grace, shall I make it now?”

 

Rhaegar nodded his head. “Someone ready the needle and sinew.”

 

“I have that, your Grace.” Grand Maester Gormon said, staring with avid fascination at the proceedings, as only a man of steadfast learning could.

 

Rhaegar nodded and he handed off the blooded dagger to Ser Oswell, who looked so pale that Rhaegar worried that he was about to pass out, but he had no time to worry about anyone else, all of his attention was on Harry, writhing and screaming under him.

He slid his hands into the slit of Harry’s belly and he felt hot, slimy things, soft tissue and then he felt his new babe, he felt along what he thought was the torso and up to the neck and he pulled the babe out as the four Kingsguard members and Grand Maester Gormon watched on as the blooded babe was slid free from Harry’s body and placed into the bowl of water.

Rhaegar ignored that Ser Oswell heaved as if he were going to be sick, instead he turned back to Harry as Ser Arthur used the dagger handed to him to cut the new babe’s cord and between them, Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur sorted out the new babe as Rhaegar helped Harry rip out the placenta with the most agonising scream that he had ever heard his Husband make.

Rhaegar threw the placenta, with its portion of cord behind him with a wet, bloody splat and he heard Ser Oswell heaving continuously.

 

“If you’re going to be sick, Ser, I suggest that you leave the…”

 

“Fuck off!” Harry roared over him.

 

“Yes, that was the gist of what I was saying.” Rhaegar sighed. “Harry doesn’t need this.”

 

“I’m fine.” Ser Oswell insisted after several hard glares from his sworn brothers.

 

Rhaegar tried to get Harry to stitch himself up, but he refused. He went entirely floppy and Rhaegar feared for the worse for a heart stopping moment and he shook Harry hard.

 

“Piss off you goat fucker!” Harry declared, his eyes still closed, and Rhaegar breathed easier.

 

“You need to stitch yourself up, Harry.”

 

“Hurts too much.” Harry sighed quietly. “Just leave it. I am ready to die.”

 

“You are _not_ dying!” Rhaegar hissed as he tried to take Harry’s hand. “I won’t let you!”

 

“I can do that, your Grace.” Grand Maester Gormon insisted, almost pushing him out of the way as he took back the needle and sinew.

 

Rhaegar watched as the Grand Maester started stitching Harry up with the ease of a well-practiced, well learned hand, in small, very neat stitches that calmed him down. The Grand Maester knew what he was doing and he could stitch Harry up a lot quicker than he could with an uncooperative Harry.

He turned to Prince Lewyn, who had tied off his new babe’s cord with a harp string and was drying the babe off with a clean linen cloth.

 

“Is the babe well?” He asked having not heard a cry as he dipped his hands into the kettle of water to clean them and his arms.

 

“A boy, your Grace.” Prince Lewyn grinned at him. “He seems well enough, his eyes are open.”

 

Rhaegar took his newly born son and peered at him closely. He was pink skinned, slightly bloated because of his birth, but he was clean and his eyes were open and clear. He breathed in deeply and looked to the bed.

Harry had taken the milk of the poppy already, he was knocked out and he was in good hands as the Grand Maester applied the salt and clove solution to the newly stitched line of his belly.

 

“This certainly was eye opening.” Ser Barristan said as he peered at the babe in Rhaegar’s arms.

 

“We wanted you to be here to witness that we are not lying. Harry has a gift given to him by the gods. He can carry my babes and he can birth them. This is our second son, whom you have all seen being pulled from Harry’s womb. Let no one declare us liars.”

 

“Is he going to be alright?” Ser Oswell asked, looking ashen faced, to Harry in the bed.

 

“He’s done this four times already, this is the fifth, four babes and two dragon eggs. He’ll be fine with some rest.” Rhaegar sighed.

 

“I agree.” Grand Maester Gormon said as he washed his own hands clean of blood. “With some rest and some milk of the poppy, as long as this wound is kept clean and free of infection, he’ll recover.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and snapped his head down when his newly born son made a soft sound. Those blue eyes peered up at him and Rhaegar smiled.

 

“He’s going to be just fine and our new son will be just fine.” Rhaegar said with a smile.

 

“The same as always, he will be named and blessed a week from now?” Ser Arthur asked, looking on proudly.

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Yes. As soon as Harry is well and off of the milk of the poppy and able to make a rational decision, we will name our new son. You’ll of course be the first to know with our family still on Dragonstone while the clean-up is progressing.”

 

“Look at that silver hair, though. Your first babe to take your hair.” Prince Lewyn chuckled.

 

Rhaegar looked at the damp tufts of hair, but he noticed in the low lighting of the flickering candles and torches that the hair wasn’t black as Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena’s hair had been. It was paler, made dark by the impromptu bath he’d just had, but it definitely was silver-blond, like his own.

 

“You’re right.” He said excitedly as he pulled his newborn son up to his face so that he could press his cheek to his babe’s. He inhaled deeply and he smiled, laying a kiss to his son’s head. “I need a wet nurse here for him. Harry doesn’t like feeding them too often while he’s on the milk of the poppy as it adversely affects the babes too.”

 

“It will be done, your Grace.”

 

Rhaegar turned back to the bed and he sat in a relatively blood free spot and he laid his son gently on Harry’s bare chest, letting Mother and son bond a little through skin to skin contact, even if Harry was knocked unconscious. He watched them with a smile as his son’s blue eyes closed as he fell asleep, contentedly listening to his Mother’s slowing heartbeat.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Five full turns after the end of the rebellion and a lot of things had changed, there was once again order and calm in the realm. Eddard Stark had presented himself to them at Kings Landing after the threat was issued to kill his babe and his younger brother, Benjen, who was still in Winterfell and had had no part in the rebellion.

Lord Hoster Tully had been executed, despite the begs and pleads of his daughters and his son, and all the other Tully’s had been evicted from Riverrun. Harry had gifted it to Lord Dayne, so he could become Lord of the Riverlands too, but in truth it was a gift to Ashara, whom he did love, as a sister or a very dear friend. She was going to rule as Lady of Riverrun when she returned from Dragonstone, so that Lord Alyn Dayne didn’t have to leave his home at Starfall.

Harry had rewarded Mace Tyrell, who had been able to build several small boats and slip under the curtain wall to take Storm’s End by force and taking both remaining Baratheons hostage, by extending his territory of the Reach to include some of the now forfeit Stormlands.

Harry and Rhaegar had decided to take Storm’s End for their own family, starting a cadet branch of their family, it would be the home of their third son when they actually had a third son, until then it was under the command of a castellan.

Their brother, Viserys, was now the Prince of Dragonstone and they had started rebuilding Summerhall as a priority because their five dragons were getting much bigger now at five turns and they needed more space. But there would be four cadet branches of their family soon. The Targaryens of Kings Landing, of Dragonstone, of Summerhall and of Storm’s End.

Casterly Rock had been left to Tyrion Lannister, under the care of Oberyn Martell to honour house Martell for their loyal service. Winterfell had been left to Benjen Stark, as he had taken no part in the rebellion and his brother had handed himself over calmly and with no fuss, and the Eyrie had been given to a man who had almost died to protect Harry when a rebel loyalist had tried to stab him as he surveyed the damage in the city in order to prioritise repairs. The rebel had been killed and Harry had seen to the loyal man’s injuries personally and then he had rewarded him heavily with a Lordship and the Eyrie.

Rhaegar had been allowed to get up out of bed after his constant complaining had gotten too annoying for Harry to endure for a moment longer, but perhaps the biggest event that had happened was that Harry had given birth to a babe in front of the four remaining members of the Kingsguard and Grand Maester Gormon, at seven turns pregnant as he had with Rhaegon. He’d had a second boy who had been born with Rhaegar’s silver hair. They had named him Baelon.

Their other family members, who had remained on Dragonstone instead of going to Dorne because their Mother was heavily pregnant and she was unable to move as easily and was suffering badly with Mother’s sickness, were to arrive back home today but it was not in time for Rhaegon’s third name day, which was three turns past. Harry had been upset about that, but it had been too dangerous and dismal to bring his children home, especially after the attempt on his life. It had still been too unsettled at that time and the lives of his family meant more to him than bringing his family home too soon, just to celebrate his son’s name day. He and Rhaegar had instead had a cup of wine each to celebrate privately.

Maegor’s Holdfast and the Red Keep, both relatively undamaged by the attack, because Harry had routed out all the invaders as he’d taken to thinking of them, had been cleaned from top to bottom and all the bed linens had been changed and aired out. Everything had been put back to rights and there was no sign of the previous damage done, nothing was out of place and all damaged or broken items had been replaced.

Kings Landing had been repaired and all of the dead bodies had been burnt, unless they had been highborn, in which case they had been returned to their families to be interred in family crypts and tombs. Eddard Stark and Robert and Stannis Baratheon had all been beheaded and their bodies sent, with Eddard Stark, to Winterfell for Benjen to do with as he wished.

The five dragons had free reign of Maegor’s Holdfast and now that they were flying strongly and steadily, they were getting around rather quickly these days. Harry made sure to keep Baelon with him at all times, as a precaution, as he forced himself to stand and walk through the pain of birthing this time, there was just far too much to do for him to stay in bed, but he had been forced to rest for the first week and a half, just because of the sheer agony he’d been in. But he was getting more used to the pain now, desensitised to it, and he was up on his feet much quicker than he had been in the past, but he always had a man or two hovering around him at all times, whether that was Rhaegar or Lord Jon Connington, or a member of the Kingsguard. He always had someone with him to keep an eye on him or to lend a hand if it was needed.

 

“How is he?” Rhaegar asked as he joined Harry in the solar, peering at his second son, who was now four turns old and the only one of their babes to take his silver hair, and had taken his purple eyes too. He looked like a copy of Rhaegar and Harry pulled his babe up to kiss him before handing him over to his Father.

 

“Quiet and sleepy. His activity levels still haven’t picked up and I’m worried that the stress during my pregnancy has affected him mentally.”

 

“He’s fine.” Rhaegar soothed his fears gently. “He’s just like me. Quiet and relaxed. I bet he’ll be a studious child when he grows too, as I was.”

 

Harry breathed deeply and he sighed, smiling as a dragon the size of a large dog came barrelling into the room to lay its head upon his lap, making a purring, growling noise of pleasure as Harry scratched across the beautiful blue scales and over the silver and gold ridges and spinal plates.

 

“Hello Xeraxys.” Harry greeted softly.

 

Rhaegar reached out and stroked his hand over Xeraxys’ beautiful sky blue scales. He had grown in beautiful silver horns and his eyes were gold, like his brother, Viserion’s.

They suspected that their Rhaelys and Pyrexian had switched their gender to female, but they had no proof of such as dragons didn’t have external sex organs like humans, or most other animals, did and the first sign they would have of such things would be when their dragons matured enough to start laying eggs of their own. Harry was excited for that, but he was glad that it wouldn’t be happening for some time, especially with the settling they had to do after the rebellion five turns before.

Already they had had smallfolk claiming that their livestock had been stolen by one of the dragons, they were of course branded as liars and sent on their way sharpish. Four of their five dragons were the size of large dogs, only Balerion was bigger, about the size of a small sheep, and none of them had gone any further than the gates of the Red Keep. Harry had told the smallfolk sternly that if their livestock was going missing then it was likely due to bandits and thieves and he advised them to take precautions against such. Those who had actually seen or been near the dragons knew that they were not yet big enough to fly while carrying anything at all, much less missing pigs or cattle.

 

“When does the ship get in?” Harry asked impatiently.

 

“Soon.” Rhaegar said, slightly distracted by their Baelon, who was burbling happily from his arms.

 

Another dragon skidded into the room and Viserion leapt onto the table, making the solid wood quiver. He screeched and nudged at Harry like a cat looking for attention and Harry obliged him by scratching his cream scales, right between the golden horns. He opened his mouth with a happy chirrup and displayed his dagger sharp, jet black teeth, getting a bit too close to the four turn old Baelon.

 

“Careful, Viserion.” Rhaegar cautioned deeply, shifting Baelon to his other arm and using his freed one to stroke over cream belly scales.

 

Viserion made a soft, happy noise and it made them both smile. Harry stroked Xeraxys and he sighed happily.

 

“I love you, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar looked up at him and chuckled. “I love you too.” He bent forward and kissed him gently on the mouth.

 

“We have so much and we could have lost it all.”

 

“No more crowning women at tourneys for me. I’ll crown you every single time.”

 

Harry laughed, able to see the absurdity of it now that the rebellion was over and laid to rest. Lyanna Stark had been confined to Winterfell since the incident by her younger brother, Benjen. Harry had heard that she was betrothed again, to Galbart Glover. She would be staying north of the neck now and would not be coming south again, at least not without her brother or new Husband to escort her to make sure that she behaved herself.

 

“Your Graces.” A servant directed at both of them. “I have word from Lord Commander Barristan Selmy, the royal ship can be seen entering Blackwater Bay.”

 

“Thank you.” Rhaegar answered. “Please bid them to come straight here, it has been too long since we last saw them.”

 

“I hope their journey was smooth, that storm the other day was nasty. We need to build a new fleet.”

 

Rhaegar sighed and shook his head. “Nearly an entire fleet of ships, destroyed by one storm.”

 

“It was a very nasty storm. Baelon wouldn’t sleep with the thunder and the lightning flashes and the dragons screeched all night.”

 

“It is their first true storm, spring is in the air again and not a false spring this time.”

 

“We’ll be getting a white raven from the Citadel soon, if that’s the case. Perhaps we could stay out until dusk if spring is coming back, we could take court at a newly built Summerhall, where our babes can run amok in the gardens.” Harry sighed wistfully, smiling at his daydreams. “Haeraenya and Helaena are going to be two in just three turns. It’s been almost a full year since we last saw them all.”

 

“They’re home.” Rhaegar soothed him gently. “Our beautiful babes are docking as we speak and they’ll be escorted here to us very soon.”

 

Harry smiled and he stood to move around a little, anxious to hold his babes to him once more and he packed away as much clutter as he could, making sure that everything was as it should be, picking up a chair that Rhaelys, who had stormed into the room, had knocked over, before he was chastised by Rhaegar for picking anything heavier than Baelon up with his healing belly wound.

He shimmied the dragons all out into the enclosed, private garden that attached to the back of the solar and he watched them settle down in the grass, the sun beating down upon their beautiful scales, warming them up and making them sleepy and contented.

Harry was so excited when Ser Arthur, fully recovered and fresh form a trip home to Dorne, carried in the three year old Rhaegon. Harry rushed to him and plucked up his babe and cradled him in his arms, kissing his face.

 

“Oh, my sweet babe, are you alright? Do you remember me?”

 

“Ma.” Rhaegon declared and he kissed Harry’s mouth before giggling. “I missed you.”

 

“Oh, I missed you too.” Harry sniffled, almost in tears from a build-up of emotion.

 

Ser Oswell and Prince Lewyn had a squirming, almost two year old, girl each and Harry indicated for them to be placed down on the table. He embraced them, all three of them, without needing to pick them up and risk having Rhaegar shout at him.

 

“Oh my sweet babes.” Harry sniffed hard, being overcome by his emotions.

 

Rhaegar’s hand touched his back in silent support and he bent forward himself to kiss their babes in turn.

 

“This is Baelon, your new brother.” Rhaegar said and Rhaegon immediately bent forward to coo at him.

 

“He’s so little!” He said in amazement. “Little baby.”

 

“Another baby.” Haeraenya said with a toothy grin.

 

Helaena said nothing, she just buried her face into Harry’s chest and clutched at him. Harry stroked her head and back and played with her long curls. His two girls were different, they looked more grown up than when they had left and Harry tried to absorb that change. He’d been away from them for far too long.

 

“Another baby?” Rhaegar questioned, picking up on what Harry hadn’t in his distraction.

 

“I am so sorry, your Grace.” Barristan Selmy said, approaching with a tiny, wrapped newborn.

 

Harry took the babe and looked at blue eyes peering out from under long tufts of silver-blonde hair.

 

“Mother has had the babe. Is she well? Where is she?” Harry asked. “I wish to assess her myself.”

 

“It was during the storm a few days past.” Ashara stepped forward to tell him, her eyes were already welled with tears and Harry’s stomach sank like a stone in a river.

 

“She has passed into the Stranger’s hands, hasn’t she?” He asked quietly, feeling detached from his own body, his own words.

 

Ashara just nodded and Harry’s ears rang, blocking out all other noise as he panted, trying to catch his breath from the massive emotional blow that had been dealt to him.

 

“No! She can’t be dead!” Rhaegar fumed. “I read a letter, written in her own hand, not four days past!”

 

“She died in childbed.” Ashara said, her bottom lip trembling as a tear escaped to roll down her cheek. “She gave you a sister and she named her Daenerys. She already has the epithet Stormborn.”

 

Harry swallowed hard and he nodded, then he nodded again, trying to find his voice. “Daenerys Stormborn. I…I will have the second cradle cleaned up, dressed and placed in our chambers for her.”

 

“Did you have your fourth babe? Or was it fourth and fifth?” Ashara tried to lighten the mood, it worked slightly as Harry smiled and touched a silver curl on his son’s head, still in Rhaegar’s arm.

 

“Just the one, Ashara. Baelon.”

 

“A second Prince? That’s two of each you have now.”

 

“Where is Viserys?” Rhaegar asked suddenly. “How is he handling Mother’s death?”

 

“Not very well, he’s blaming Daenerys.” Ser Willem Darry stepped forward, a sleeping Viserys on his shoulder. “He sleeps more since Queen Rhaella passed.”

 

Harry sighed and he touched his brother gently. “Put him to bed, Ser. I’ll speak to him later, when he awakens.”

 

“Where…where is Mother?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Her body has been brought back, would you like for us to build a pyre for her?” Barristan asked.

 

Rhaegar swallowed visibly, but he settled his shoulders and he nodded. “Yes, that would be for the best, Ser.”

 

“We need to make an official announcement.” Harry said tonelessly. “Queen Rhaella is dead, but she has given us another Princess, Daenerys Stormborn.”

 

“Are all the rebels dead?” Ashara asked worriedly.

 

“If all of them had been killed, Ashara, we’d have hardly anyone left to rule.” Harry said sadly. “Nearly every great house was against us after Father killed two hundred men and their sons, along with Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark and many of the noble houses followed. Even the Lannisters turned against us in the end.”

 

“We heard rumours on Dragonstone, did Jaime really kill Aerys?”

 

Harry nodded. “He did, he slit his throat almost to the bone. Who are we to trust if even the Kingsguard turn their cloaks?”

 

“I find that highly insulting.” Prince Lewyn teased and Harry was forced to smile.

 

“I’m sure that you do. But Lannister or not, I never, _never_ , would have believed Jaime capable of killing his King and opening the gates to the city for it to be sacked by his Father’s men. I never would have treated his injuries myself and housed him in the Red Keep if I’d had any doubts at all that he was capable of anything to this end. It was very shocking and it has broken my trust, it’s why we’re having difficulty in raising three new members to the Kingsguard. We trust you four implicitly, but to raise three new members, it would mean that almost half the Kingsguard will be new and I don’t have that level of trust any more and I find it difficult to turn my back to anyone. I need to keep them in my sights and the closer they get, the tenser I get.”

 

“The rebellion is over.” Rhaegar comforted him.

 

“But not everyone is happy that we won.” Harry sighed sadly.

 

“They will settle down.” Rhaegar insisted. “What would harming us do now? We have dragons.”

 

“We’d heard that rumour too.”

 

“Again, that isn’t a rumour. It’s true.” Harry said with a smile. “If you come here, you can see two of them sleeping under that table outside.”

 

Ashara approached cautiously and she let out a gasp as she caught sight of Rhaelys and Viserion curled up around one another out in the small garden.

 

“By the Seven, it’s true!” She said, turning to Elia, who didn’t approach.

 

“They won’t harm you.” Rhaegar said dismissively. “They’ve been taught not to eat humans and they only use their fire on command.”

 

“Don’t they have accidents?” Ashara asked.

 

“They have people whom they don’t like and they show it by hissing as a warning, and like a snake, they will snap at fingers and hands that go near them out of the blue, particularly when they’re sleeping as they are now. They do not like to be disturbed, but other than that they’re very affectionate.”

 

“What about Baelon?” Elia asked worriedly.

 

“What about him?” Rhaegar said. “The dragons are of course curious about him, but they mean no harm to him, but as a precaution we’re not about to leave any of our babes alone with our dragons. They’re very curious and now they’re very big.”

 

Harry watched his three babes on the floor, Helaena not moving too far from him and she kept looking back over her shoulder at him, as if making sure that he was still there. It broke his heart.

He crouched down, onto the floor and he sat down and his youngest daughter smiled at him and rushed back to hug him, being careful of her newborn Aunt Daenerys.

 

“Go and play, sweet one.” He encouraged gently.

 

“No go?”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry insisted firmly. “And neither are you. Not anymore.”

 

Helaena smiled wondrously at him and it warmed Harry’s heart. She toddled off on quick little legs and she picked up a wooden doll with a beautifully painted face and real hair. Harry sighed and looked down at his quiet sister.

He smiled at her and touched her soft pink cheek. She was only a few days old, but already she was an orphan.

 

“When was she last fed?” Harry asked.

 

“On the ship.” Ashara nodded. “She has a wet nurse, but I suppose with Bae…” Ashara trailed off with a quick, fearful look to Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell.

 

Harry chuckled. “They know, Ashara, have no fear. They watched as Baelon was pulled from my belly in a gush of blood and fluid and from what Rhaegar recounts of the moment, poor Ser Oswell almost vomited.”

 

“I wasn’t that bad!” Ser Oswell defended himself.

 

Harry laughed. “I no longer feel any shame in feeding my babes. I just strip off and feed them now, I suppose it won’t be too strange to feed my sister too. I am almost twenty and she’s just days old. She is younger than my two sons, than my two daughters.”

 

“Someone has to raise her.” Rhaegar told him. “It might as well be us.”

 

Harry nodded and he kissed Daenerys for the first time, smiling as she yawned and closed her pale blue eyes. He just knew that they were going to go a brilliant purple.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Their coronation was a heavily attended, forced affair. The High Septon had initially refused to crown them after it had emerged that they were lovers and that the four royal children were their own true born babes. He had renounced their marriage, to which they had replied that the Faith couldn’t undo a marriage in the eyes of the old gods, he had then claimed them unnatural demons and had even tried to insist upon Harry’s ‘sacrifice’ to the Seven in order to cleanse his children of his dark taint.

Rhaegar had threatened to slit open the High Septon’s belly and force him to eat his own insides if he ever mentioned sacrificing Harry ever again. He would no longer allow anyone to even jape about such things and he became very angry at any mention of Harry’s death. He had been reminded, with their own Mother’s passing, how very dangerous childbirth was and that it could very easily take his Husband’s life.

They had told the High Septon exactly what to say on pain of death, making sure he mentioned liberally that Harry had been born in the Great Sept, that he had been blessed by the Seven, particularly the Mother, on whose holy day he had been born upon and all the while, their four children, their brother and sister and their five dragons were in attendance with them.

Their dragons got more attention than they did, even as they held hands as their newly forged, twin crowns were laid over their heads by the High Septon, their foreheads still glistening with holy oil from their blessing.

 

“You will acknowledge our legal marriage in the Faith.” Harry ordered, narrowing his eyes as the High Septon made to scurry off.

 

“I can’t.” The man quivered. “It’s not right, it is not…”

 

“You are acting as if we are giving you a choice.” Rhaegar said under his breath. “You can be easily replaced, as Grand Maester Pycelle was replaced when it suited us more favourably.”

 

“He…he was breaking his oaths. I have not…”

 

“Perhaps he was breaking his oaths, but not on the day that he died. That was a fabrication on our part to remove him from office and put a more trusted person in his place. The same will happen to you if we wish it.” Rhaegar smiled nastily.

 

“You’re monsters, you’re both monsters.”

 

“We are monsters who can easily have you charged with treason and have your head decorating a spike on Traitor’s Walk.” Harry said softly.

 

The High Septon gulped, his fat chins wobbling with the action. He mouthed wordlessly for a few moments, but he found his voice when Rhaegar’s hand drifted obviously towards his Valyrian steel sword, Kingsfire, decorating his hip for their coronation. His action went unnoticed by most others, but the Kingsguard saw it and thinking that there was a threat, they reacted on impulsive reflex and they pulled in tighter, advancing a step forward and, reminded of their protection, of their honour guards at their backs, the High Septon started speaking in a high, reedy voice.

 

“I…the Faith of the Seven recognises the…the union between our two new Kings, his Grace Rhaegar and his Grace Haradarian, who married under the old gods four years past and we…we _accept_ this marriage in the name of the Seven, in the Faith, and the Seven…the Seven blesses them. The Warrior kept his hands over our King Rhaegar at the Trident while the Mother lent her strength to our King Haradarian, so that he might bir…birth their four, true born children.”

 

“Accept them.” Harry hissed dangerously as there was a small pause. “ _Now_!”

 

“The Faith of the Seven accepts these miracle babes!” The High Septon called out fearfully and the smallfolk cheered fervently, not even noticing the state of sheer terror that their High Septon was in.

 

The noise of the cheering smallfolk stirred Pyrexian, who lifted up his head and screeched. A lot of women screamed, men yelled out and the High Septon about pissed himself, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath.

 

“Settle, Pyrexian.” Harry called out softly and the beautiful red dragon looked at him, stretched languidly, before laying back down and closing his red eyes. “Carry on High Septon, please.” He smiled, all charm and innocent beguiling, as if he were still but a small boy as yet untainted by horror and war and the smallfolk lapped it up, taking everything in their stride as they looked at their silver Prince Rhaegar and Haradarian the Heart, who had both been so strong, so formidable during the war that they could do no wrong in the eyes of their people. Not even the news of the dragons, of their marriage together, nor that two men had had true born children had faltered the majority of them. They truly were simple people and as long as they were fed and kept safe, which they were, they truly were happy and uncaring of everything else.

 

“Our…our Kings, are blessed by the Seven and we accept their marriage and their children.” He warbled out, looking to be completely petrified, his eyes darting rapidly and often to the sleeping pile of dragons. “We…we accept them and know that they are truly blessed by the Seven!”

 

The smallfolk cheered again and after a few more warbling words and more holy oil smeared by fat fingers over their foreheads and cheeks, the ceremony was over and Rhaegar sneered at the High Septon and he kept a hold of Harry’s hand, going to greet the smallfolk, who were actually taking all of this really well, much better than they had feared that they would.

They had nulled their marriages to Ashara and the upset Elia, who had tried to claim that Rhaegar had consummated their wedding night, to which Harry had easily disproved as he had been the one to spend her wedding night with Rhaegar and Elia had spent the night with Ashara, who had confirmed that Elia had been there all night with her.

Elia was on her way back to Dorne, her plan to keep Rhaegar by trying to convince the people that she had been wronged, that the twin Princesses were her own babes by Rhaegar and that he was trying to take them from her, was foiled and the relationship between the crown and the Martell’s was now very tenuous and suspicious.

 

“Ma!” A three and a half year old Rhaegon called out, from where he was stood holding Ser Arthur’s left hand. His right was hovering near Dawn, always on alert for dangers.

 

Harry went to his son and picked him up, kissing his cheek and Rhaegar came to touch his black hair.

 

“Da!” Helaena called out, raising her arms. He picked her up and swung her into his one arm as Haeraenya, not wanting to be left out, charged at him with her own arms up and he had to do the same with their older daughter.

 

Ashara was holding Baelon on her one hip and she had Daenerys tucked into her neck. Viserys was smiling at them, happy to be home and with his beloved older brothers. He was slowly coming to terms with their parents’ deaths, but he had moments where he remained quiet and sad. It was, however, getting much easier to break him from such moods than it had been when their Mother’s death had been fresh in his mind.

 

“Come, let us go back to our home.” Rhaegar said.

 

Harry nodded. “Balerion! Round up your brothers. Up, up!” Harry commanded and Balerion blinked open a red eye at Harry’s voice. “ _To me_.” He said in High Valyrian.

 

The five of them were seven turns old now and they were getting big and boisterous, but Harry was very stubborn and Rhaegar’s force of character was stronger. Together they could keep control of the rapidly growing dragons.

Of course meeting Viserion and learning that he was to be his own personal dragon, Viserys had brightened up considerably. He and Viserion had bonded, mostly because Viserys wouldn’t leave Viserion alone and had recently taken to riding the white and gold dragon like a horse. Harry had worried at first, but Viserion was very patient and calm with Viserys and he allowed such behaviours and in fact he started to act like Viserys, following him around and joining in his games as best as he could. They had bonded strongly.

Harry still wouldn’t allow his children, or Viserys for that matter, to be alone with the dragons. It just wasn’t sensible to leave them alone with a large, powerful and deadly animal that could kill them within a split second. No matter how patient and tolerant Viserion seemed at a glance, it only took one bad day, a push too far or maybe an accidental injury and Viserion’s patient disposition could turn in an instant. Harry wouldn’t take that risk with anyone, especially not his children or beloved brother and sister, who was more like a daughter to him as he fed her from his own body along with her nephew, Baelon, who was rapidly getting used to eating semi-solid foods at six turns old.

Harry was right about one thing though, Daenerys’ eyes had gone a beautiful shade of purple and she and Baelon looked more like brother and sister than Aunt and nephew, but Harry’s odd colouring had affected his three older children, leaving just little Baelon to take fully after his Father. For the moment at least.

Balerion got to his feet, bigger than all of the others and there were alarmed cries of shock from those still hanging around the Great Sept as Balerion growled and bit at his brothers, getting them moving. They still didn’t know for certain if Pyrexian and Rhaelys had changed their gender, they were still too young to reproduce, so for now, all of their dragons were considered male, it just made things easier.

They led the five dragons out into the open air and they all stretched out happily from their small sleeps, but Harry kept them moving, not allowing them to look around too much or to scamper off. Rhaegar was following behind them just to make sure that none of them vanished on the way back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

Harry happily went to the royal solar and he slumped down in a chair, removing his new crown. It was beautiful and it exactly matched Rhaegar’s in size, shape and design, it was just made slightly slimmer to fit his smaller head. They hadn’t wanted anyone to say that they were not co-Kings, that they were not jointly ruling together, because they were and neither of them were higher than the other. Harry loved and respected Rhaegar and his Husband loved and respected him in return.

Harry cuddled Helaena, his most affectionate child, gave her a kiss and sent her off to play. He was handed Baelon, but he put the boy on the floor, between his feet and he took a moment to breathe. Ashara was sitting with Daenerys and Harry was free to watch his four children. His boisterous boy, Rhaegon, his talkative Haeraenya, who was babbling odd words to herself as she turned over a wooden horse in her hands, his sweet Helaena, who seemed to be studying everyone in the room and his tiny, quiet Baelon, with his silver hair and indigo eyes, who was only just showing an increase in activity since his birth. Baelon who was wriggling across the floor as Xeraxys watched him with a curiously cocked head. Harry kept his eyes on the dragon and moved closer, just in case it was needed. It wasn’t, Xeraxys lost interest in the wriggling Baelon and instead turned his attention back to Rhaelys and the two of them nipped and head butted at the other in a sort of game.

Harry stood and went to Baelon regardless and hefted him up, kissing his neck to hear his youngest son giggle wetly through a mouth that was only just growing in his first tooth.

 

“I love you, sweetness.” Harry sighed, cradling his youngest son close.

 

“I love you, Husband.” Rhaegar said, wrapping strong, muscled arms around Harry’s waist and kissing the back of his neck.

 

Harry chuckled and he tipped his head back, they didn’t have to fear getting caught any more, they didn’t have to guard their tongues, they could just be themselves, they could show and announce their love to one another as loudly as they cared to without any fears now. Everyone already knew and though there were those who were disgusted by the idea of them being married together, of them having children together, neither of them cared. No one could do anything to them now, they were entirely secure.

 

“I love you so much, Rhaegar.” Harry said passionately and Rhaegar smiled smugly at him, before he dipped his head and stole a kiss.

 

“Your Grace, Haradarian.” Ser Arthur addressed him, the Kingsguard had taken to using their names after their title to avoid confusion. “Lord Mace and Lady Alerie Tyrell request your company. They have their four children with them and the hostage, Renly Baratheon.”

 

“Kindly see them in, Ser.” Harry said and a few moments later he grinned as two boys immediately rushed in and embraced his legs. “Willas, Garlan.” He greeted, getting to his one knee and holding them both, placing a kiss to each of their heads.

 

“Your Grace.” Lord Mace addressed him with a respectful bow, he was holding the hand of a red eyed Renly.

 

Harry laughed. “Please, Mace. We’re friends. In the comfort of our own privacy, Harry is fine.”

 

He looked at the small, and very shy it seemed, curly head of brown hair hiding behind his Mother’s skirts.

 

“This must be Loras.” He smiled.

 

“He is our shy boy.” Mace nodded.

 

“And…who is this?” He asked, looking at the babe in Alerie’s arms. “She looks to be newly born, please tell me that you didn’t travel out here so soon after birthing.”

 

“This is our Margaery, she is almost a turn old, your Grace. I felt well enough to travel. We couldn’t very well miss your coronation.” Alerie told him.

 

Harry smiled widely. “She is almost of an age with Daenerys, she’s two turns old now.” Harry said, looking to Ashara, who was speaking softly to his baby sister. “Not to mention our new babe, Baelon. He’s six turns old.”

 

“Rhaegon is three years now?” Mace asked.

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, Rhaegon is three and Haeraenya and Helaena are two on the next turn, just after Rhaegar turns five-and-twenty.”

 

“They are beautiful girls.” Mace complimented.

 

Harry smiled as he realised what Mace was angling at. He wasn’t upset, just the opposite, he was very pleased.

 

“Willas is nine now, isn’t he?” Harry asked.

 

“Yes, your…Harry.” Mace nodded.

 

“Garlan is seven?”

 

“He is.”

 

“And if I remember rightly, little Loras is two.”

 

He smiled at the peek of brown eyes from behind Alerie’s dress and he chuckled lightly. “I suppose that nine and two is not such a large gap, what do you think, my love?”

 

Rhaegar cottoned on easily and he didn’t seem as pleased. “I’m not so sure, we married for love, Harry. Can we push forced marriage onto our children when we went to such lengths to avoid it ourselves?”

 

Harry bit his lip. “I suppose it would not be a bad thing to betroth them when they are closer to being of age, you would not be offended if they did not wish to be married? Regardless of a marriage between our families, I cannot thank you enough for your support, and the support of Highgarden and the Reach. We are always going to be friends, Mace.”

 

“I would not be offended, your Grace. I just think it would neaten things up if my heir were married to your daughter.”

 

Harry nodded. “I more than understand. You never know, Helaena might turn around and like Willas more than Haeraenya, or perhaps Garlan or Loras will take a fancy to them, or even to Daenerys. If we force them together, we’ll never know their true feelings and I cannot have one of my daughters hating me or resenting that I have forced her into a marriage when I myself married my own brother for love.”

 

Mace nodded in understanding and he seemed to be appeased.

 

“Please have a seat. I’ll call for refreshments.”

 

The Tyrells sat down and Loras was only allowed to stay for a few minutes in his Mother’s skirt before Rhaegon caught sight of him and literally, physically dragged him away from his Mother to play. Rhaegon truly was a boisterous boy, he was strong too, both in body and in will. He would make a wonderful King when he was older.

A servant came back with wine and honey cakes and Harry settled next to Rhaegar, who had Baelon in his lap. Baelon wriggled all over Rhaegar, before making it onto Harry’s lap and then over to Mace and Alerie.

 

“May I?” Harry asked as he held his arms out.

 

Alerie smiled and moved to pass him the baby Margaery. Soft brown eyes looked up at him from under soft tufts of brown hair and Harry chuckled.

 

“There’s you saying about my daughters, look at your own, Mace. You’ll have absolutely no problems finding a Husband for this sweet little one.”

 

Viserys hurried into the room and he looked at the two boys who were near his own age, then to his two older brothers, then to Renly Baratheon, who was also of an age with him.

 

“It’s alright, Viserys.” Rhaegar told him.

 

Harry nodded. “It’s about time that you interacted with some boys your own age. Go and play nicely with Willas and Garlan. Renly, you go and play too.” Harry directed at the lost looking boy, who didn’t really understand what was happening. He knew that both of his brothers were dead and that his home was no longer his home any more, but he didn’t really seem to understand why that was, but the Tyrells were taking good care of him, as Harry had instructed.

 

“The dragons, where are they?” Alerie asked nervously.

 

“They are completely under our command.” Harry assured her gently, understanding her concern as she had her children in the room. “They’re all out in the garden, enjoying the surprisingly warm sun.”

 

“Spring is on its way back. Our winter blooms are struggling and some of the spring blooms are trying to flower early.” Alerie said, calmed somewhat by Harry’s reassurance about the absent dragons.

 

Harry nodded himself. “It feels like spring, hopefully it won’t be a false spring again. I am more than ready for some much warmer weather. This winter has lasted for too long already.”

 

“Is it because the dragons are back?” Mace asked, trying to see the dragons through the door to the garden.

 

“It could be.” Rhaegar answered. “But all we have is speculation.”

 

“We do know that summers lasted for much longer when the dragons were living on this continent.” Harry added. “We might yet see a ten year long summer like we used to when the dragons were last here.”

 

“Such a thing would be wonderful for the flowers of Highgarden.” Alerie sighed. “It blooms through all seasons, but summer is truly something special.”

 

Harry smiled as he cradled the newly born Margaery. His friendship with the Tyrells was only growing stronger, he and Rhaegar had been crowned as Kings, even if it had taken a bit of force and some threats, things were finally looking to be peaceful for them.

The Targaryen’s were secured on the throne again, with the dragons no one would dare rise against them again and their family was growing larger. They had already gotten people to start rebuilding Summerhall, Storm’s End was theirs, they had land and riches for their children when they were older. They would let their children marry for love, within reason of course, and to that end, they would refuse to betroth them outside of the loose arrangement they had with the Tyrells, who were understanding and lifelong friends of theirs.

He would have to try again with the Martell’s too, he owed it to his good friend Lewyn. Prince Doran Martell had a nine year old daughter, Arianne, perhaps Viserys would like her. He would have to bring it up in a few years’ time. After the anger they felt at Elia’s betrayal settled down first.

Viserys laughed joyously and Harry smiled automatically. It was nice to hear Viserys laughing. It was brilliant to see him playing with other boys of his own age as they played with some wooden swords…ones that weren’t lined with lead, ones that were just toys. They were playing at being knights.

Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena were having just as much fun with little Loras, playing with little dolls, wooden animals and the elaborate carriage that he and Rhaegar had had made for Helaena, complete with fabric curtains and plush little seats. It could be attached to a wooden horse and a little doll could sit in the carriage.

Baelon wiggled back over Harry’s lap to Rhaegar and his Husband kissed their son and put him on the floor. Baelon screeched and he was off, plodding his way across the floor on hands and knees.

 

“Bae, no!” Haeraenya chastised her brother, rushing over and plucking her doll from the floor before Baelon could touch it.

 

“Haeraenya, let your brother play with the doll.” Rhaegar chastised.

 

“He dribble on it, Da!” Haeraenya cried at the injustice of being chastened.

 

Harry passed baby Margaery back to Alerie and he stood, going to a chest in the corner of the solar and digging through it. He found another doll wrapped in a square of fabric and he hunched down, handing this doll to Baelon, who did indeed put it straight into his mouth and gnaw on it.

He checked on little Daenerys, who was fast asleep, before he kissed Ashara’s cheek. He went and sat next to Rhaegar and he kissed him too, on the mouth. He chuckled as Rhaegar kissed down his neck as they wrapped up in one another’s arms.

 

“Do you two never stop?” Lord Jon Connington asked as he came into the room to see them wrapped up in a loving embrace, Rhaegar looking proudly at the new bruise that he had suckled onto Harry’s shoulder, lavishing it with attention from his tongue.

 

Jon had never fully approved of their relationship, nor their marriage, and though he was fine with the both of them on their own, if they were being affectionate with one another, he always became particularly venomous, to Harry more so than to Rhaegar. It always made Harry’s jealously flare up, he had never forgotten the crushed look in Jon’s eyes as they’d announced their marriage intentions and by now he knew, he _knew_ with certainty, that Jon truly loved his brother, as he did. Rhaegar was completely oblivious to such feelings from his childhood friend and Harry intended to keep it that way, mostly out of spite as he knew that his brother-husband would never leave him for another person, man or woman. They had far too much together and they were truly in love, nothing would come of him telling Rhaegar that Jon loved him as more than a dear friend, but he knew that on some level it hurt Jon to know that Rhaegar didn’t notice the love that he held for him, that Rhaegar had never noticed the looks, the gestures or the hints that Jon had tried to give to him over the years, and that appeased Harry’s need to be spiteful to Jon for his feelings towards his Husband. Harry was content with that being Jon’s punishment for loving his brother-husband as he did.

 

“Four and a half years of marriage and I love him more today than I ever have before, and tomorrow, I will love him more than I do today.” Rhaegar smiled, holding Harry close and Harry grinned smugly, knowing that Rhaegar was unknowingly, unintentionally, stabbing Jon’s heart with his words and actions. “What needs our attention this time, Jon? There had better not be another gold cloak dispute over how long patrols are, I swear on the Seven I will double the length of their bloody patrols if they carry on!”

 

“No. Another farmer has claimed that he saw your dragons steal his cows with his own eyes.” Jon snorted.

 

“While all five of them were in the Great Sept this afternoon?” Rhaegar scoffed.

 

“He claims that it happened before your coronation. Early this morning.”

 

“Could that have happened?” Alerie asked worriedly.

 

“Not at all, Lady Alerie.” Harry said soothingly. “Not one of them are strong enough yet to pick up a chicken, let alone a pig, a sheep or a cow. They are flying much better now that they’re seven turns, but they are not big enough, nor strong enough, to fly with anything else. They dip down in the air and struggle to fly straight when we give them a small bag of straw to carry during their training!”

 

“They’re stronger on the floor at the moment.” Rhaegar added with a nod. “Viserion can carry Viserys on his back, but he definitely could not fly with him.”

 

“Is Viserion the black dragon? He’s so big.”

 

“No, that is our Balerion reborn. Viserion is the cream and gold. He matches Viserys’ colouring, which is why we passed him over to our brother.” Harry explained. “Balerion is a deal bigger than the other four, but he’s still the same age and he’s still learning, just as they are.”

 

“What shall I say to the farmer?” Lord Jon asked.

 

“Nothing, I’ll come with you.” Harry sighed.

 

He stood and then bent over to kiss Rhaegar, ignoring the slight, thinly veiled glare that he got from Jon for the display of affection and he grabbed his brand new crown and left the solar. As soon as he left the room, Prince Lewyn fell in step behind him as Harry jammed the silk lined crown onto his head, making sure that it was perfectly placed.

He made his way out of Maegor’s Holdfast, over the serpentine steps and to the Great Hall. The nervous looking farmer was almost sick as he saw Harry approaching the Iron Throne.

Harry sat carefully on the very uncomfortable Iron Throne and he schooled his expression as he looked down at the farmer.

 

“I have been told that you have a grievance against the crown?” He said sternly.

 

“I…yes. Yes, your Grace.” The farmer stuttered. “See, I have…had thirty-six cows. There are only thirty-three now, your Grace.”

 

“Banditry is never tolerated, if there is another outlaw group running amok, I will of course send out knights to eliminate them. Thank you for your information on such a group.” Harry said. “But my small council could have dealt with this matter without me being present.”

 

Harry nodded to the several people sat on stools before the dais which sat the Iron Throne. Lord Jon Connington was his and Rhaegar’s Hand, Ser Barristan sat the small council as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, as did the Grand Maester.

 

“He claims that he saw a dragon steal his cows.” Grand Maester Gormon told him.

 

“Is this true?” Harry asked as the crowd of witnesses and supplicants tittered.

 

“Yes, Ser, your Grace.” The farmer stuttered.

 

“You don’t seem overly confident of that statement. Did you see the dragon or not?”

 

“I did, yes!” The farmer insisted more firmly.

 

“What colour was it?” Harry asked simply.

 

“What?”

 

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Are you stalling for time?” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I asked you what colour was the dragon that you claim to have seen stealing your cows.”

 

“Green, your Grace.” The farmer said, before changing his mind when Harry showed no reaction. “No, it was black!”

 

“Well, which was it?” Harry asked. “You claim that you saw it taking off with your cows, what colour was it?”

 

“Black.” The farmer said firmly.

 

“What size was the dragon?” Harry asked next.

 

“What size was it?” The farmer asked back.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it, not to echo my words. Now what size was the dragon? Was it the size of a dog? The size of a sheep? The size of an oxen? Tell me.”

 

“It was much, much bigger, your Grace!” The farmer insisted. “The size of a ship at least.”

 

“It was the size of a ship and it carried off three of your cows with one pass?”

 

“Yes, your Grace. It did, I saw it.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Prince Lewyn, go and get my black dragon for me.”

 

Prince Lewyn bowed to him and then left the Great Hall. The Kingsguard had all been desensitised to the five dragons and though Balerion kept his fondness for Ser Arthur, the dragons still reacted favourably to all of the Kingsguard.

 

“There is still time to admit that you didn’t see what, or rather _who_ , took your three missing cows.” He said mildly as he waited patiently, sitting still and straight-backed on the Iron Throne, forcing himself not to fidget or move.

 

“I know what I saw, your Grace! Those cows are my livelihood! Losing just one of them will beggar my family, to lose three of them at once, I…”

 

“Which is why when three of your cows went missing, you fabricated this story to try and claim damages from the crown. You and half the farmers in the Seven Kingdoms who are looking to try and get a bit of extra coin. One claimed that it was a yellow dragon who had carried off half his herd of sheep, another that the dragon, of an undisclosed colour, had mauled several of his pigs for sadistic fun. But you see, I know that those dragons haven’t been anywhere as they stay with either myself or with King Rhaegar at all times. I would think that we’d notice one of them going missing for several hours and coming back with more meat than the five of them could eat in a week.” Harry said sternly. “The crown cannot give you coin for thieving bandits, but if it was directly our fault, we would of course be responsible to pay for the damages. Which is why you’ve claimed to have seen a black dragon the size of a ship picking up your three missing cows and flying off with them when in reality, I would suspect that outlaws or bandits have stolen three of your cows in the night and you’ve woken up to find them missing and decided to blame it on our dragons and claim for damages instead of accepting the truth of the matter.”

 

“I know what I saw.” The farmer insisted stubbornly.

 

Harry shook his head and looked to his small council. Particularly at his Master of Coin. “You know what to do.” He said sadly.

 

The man nodded and looked at the farmer. “The penalty for claiming false damages is a fine of fifty silver stags to be payable immediately to the crown.”

 

“Failure to pay the fine will result in the loss of a hand.” The newly promoted Master of Laws, Lord Ardwell Celtigar, added.

 

The farmer went grey at hearing that news, but Harry had given him ample opportunity to come clean and to say the truth. Now it was too late as Prince Lewyn came back into the Great Hall, a fearsome looking Balerion behind him.

 

“Ah. Now, as you can see, this is the only black dragon that King Rhaegar and I have and he is the size of a sheep, not a ship. He couldn’t carry off one cow, let alone three.” Harry said as Balerion caught sight of him and came to lay his head in his lap, getting a good scratch for it, which made the dragon rumble with pleasure.

 

“Maybe the dragon was…was green.” The farmer tried.

 

“Our green dragon is smaller than this one.” Harry cut down immediately. “You have lied about what happened to your cows and you have tried to falsely claim that it was my fault, mine and my Husband Rhaegar’s, that your three cows have gone missing. We do not appreciate being played for fools. Gentlemen, you know what to do.” He directed at his small council.

 

Harry stood and with a touch to Balerion’s head, he got the black and red dragon following him and with Prince Lewyn escorting him, he made his way back to Maegor’s Holdfast and to the royal solar. He once again took the crown off and put it next to Rhaegar’s and he slumped down next to his Husband again.

 

“That was an ordeal.” Harry sighed. “A straight up fine or the loss of a hand.”

 

Rhaegar smoothed his hair back and kissed him gently. “We can’t let them off of the law, Harry.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. He tried to claim that Balerion was the culprit and said that he was the size of a ship!” Harry laughed. “He tried to claim that he carried off three cows at once.”

 

Rhaegar shook his head. “He wasn’t the first, he won’t be the last, especially when they do get bigger. We need to exercise more control over them.”

 

Harry nodded his agreement. “Training though, not control. They don’t need to be controlled. They need training. They will not act unless upon our command, they will not use their fire, they will not leave without permission.”

 

“Can that be done?” Lord Mace asked as he watched Prince Lewyn escort Balerion back out into the garden.

 

Harry nodded. “They’re entirely capable of being trained and they are incredibly intelligent. When they’re older, we hope to be able to trust them to go off flying on their own or as a group, without us to supervise them and we hope that we can trust that nothing will happen. They’ll be very well fed, so there won’t be a need for them to kill for food and we hope to train them not to kill for pleasure or for the sake of it. We will not be using them as execution devices, though they are going to be trained as war mounts once their basic training is completed and we can trust them.”

 

Harry pulled his baby Baelon back onto his lap and he sighed, burying his nose into his son’s silver hair. He breathed in his delicate scent happily and rocked his little babe to sleep. It was coming up to midday and his babes always napped near midday.

 

“Will you have more?” Alerie asked a little hesitantly. It was still a strange concept to understand, but Harry had to hand it to his friends, they were adjusting to the situation really well.

 

“I’m sure that we will.” Harry said with a smile. “I haven’t had enough just yet.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled and wrapped him back up in his arms.

 

“It doesn’t help that Rhaegar won’t leave me be.” He added.

 

“It’s your fault for being so beautiful.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“No, you just have absolutely no self-control.” Harry corrected.

 

“Only when it comes to you.”

 

Harry sighed and shook his head, putting a sleeping Baelon up on his shoulder.

 

“How has Renly been?” He asked quietly so that the happily playing boy wouldn’t hear him.

 

“He’s not adjusting very well.” Mace said quickly, jumping at the change of topic. “He cries almost every day. This is the first time I’ve seen him happy since…since everything.”

 

“It was never going to happen overnight.” Ashara said softly, also looking at the giggling Renly. “He’s only a boy and everything he once knew has changed or gone. He’s lost every member of his family. He just needs some time to adjust and a bit of care and he’ll be fine.”

 

“I hope he doesn’t grow up rebellious.” Harry sighed.

 

“I’m sure that he won’t. He’s young enough and baby Robb younger still.” Rhaegar soothed.

 

“Where is the Stark boy?” Mace asked interestedly.

 

“He’s still here as our guest. We get a raven from Winterfell every few weeks asking after him and pleading for him back.”

 

“Ah, the Lady Catelyn?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, I can fully understand that she wants her babe back. I would be the same in her shoes too, but with Benjen Stark as the Warden of the North still, we just can’t trust them.”

 

“They’ll fill baby Robb’s head with ideas of revenge and rebellion and when he’s a man grown, we’ll have another war on our hands. We’ll send him back when he’s older.” Rhaegar said decisively.

 

Harry nodded his agreement. “We’ll raise him alongside our babes and send him back to the North when he’s fully grown, filled with the care and love of our upbringing and the camaraderie of being an almost sibling of our own babes.”

 

“A wise decision.” Mace nodded. “Will the same happen with Renly?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. He will never be the Lord of Storm’s End. As the leader of the rebel army against us, Robert Baratheon has ruined any chance of that. If he shows promise and obedience when he’s fully grown, he will be granted his own lands and home, but the Baratheons will never again be one of the Great Houses.”

 

“We can’t be seen to be rewarding the instigators of rebellion.” Rhaegar sighed. “Giving Stark back to the North when he’s fully grown is about the limit. If we gave Renly back Storm’s End, after his brother almost ruined our family and tried to take the Iron Throne from us, after he almost killed me and did kill two members of the Kingsguard, we could almost certainly be facing another uprising. We’d be seen as weak and soft and others would seek to take advantage of that.”

 

“Surely no one will bother you now that you have dragons?” Alerie asked.

 

Harry shook his head. “Some would rebel against us _because_ of the dragons, so we don’t want to give them any real reason to do so. I lived in constant stress for almost a year, I was pregnant with Baelon through the rebellion and I had to fight against Lannister’s men while I was six turns pregnant with him. I would much rather not go through that again if it can be at all helped.”

 

“Ma, we hungry.” Rhaegon ran up to him to tell him.

 

“I suppose it is close enough to the middle of the day, come on then, to the table.”

 

“Will you stay and eat with us?” Rhaegar asked the Tyrell’s cordially.

 

“We would be honoured to.” Mace answered with an incline of his head.

 

Harry breathed deeply and he put Baelon down on the soft seat, covering him, Margaery and Daenerys over with the blanket that his Mother had made. He had a lot more respect for it now that she was dead and could never make another one.

The servants hurried in to serve them the midday meal, placing dishes around the table quickly and efficiently. Harry was the one to serve his Rhaegon and twin girls, including the little two year old Loras, but Viserys, Willas, Garlan and Renly all served themselves. He made sure that all the large selections of food were cut up for the four children and that they could be eaten without a risk of choking and he made sure his children were sat properly so that they couldn’t fall, before he sat down himself and ate his own meal.

The rebellion of the would be usurper had taken a lot from him, but not as much as it had taken from the six year old Renly, but at least he was around boys his own age with Viserys, Willas and Garlan willing to play with him. When he was at High Garden he would be raised with love, and he would have the same, almost siblings, that Robb Stark would have in Willas, Garlan, Loras and Margaery.

The rebellion had been a farce from the start, the hot headed Robert Baratheon had needed the smallest amount of provocation as possible and he had used it as an excuse to attack them. Lyanna Stark trying to _walk_ to Kings Landing, on her own, to throw herself at Rhaegar was the excuse that Robert Baratheon had been waiting for and he had overreacted so appallingly that some people were now calling the war the Fool’s Rebellion.

Robert had risked not only his own life, but the lives of his friends and family also. He had been executed, but so to had his brother Stannis and all of this rebel friends, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully. Jon Arryn had died in battle and it could be argued that so to had Tywin Lannister, even though he hadn’t seen any true battle.

Harry had kept his word and he’d taken huge delight in marrying Cersei Lannister to the new Lord of the Vale, Ser Amory Mallery, who had saved his life from his would-be murderer. So while he hadn’t married Cersei to someone of absolutely no renown, he had offered insult to the Lannisters, and huge honour to the Mallery’s, by marrying Lord Lothar Mallery’s younger son to the only surviving daughter of Tywin Lannister, who was being kept locked up in the ugly Eyrie, her new home, and a far cry from the warm, lavish comforts of Casterly Rock.

He’d appeased Tywin Lannister’s younger siblings by returning his, and Jaime’s, bodies to them to do with as they wished, but he had also sent a warning. If they even thought of any retribution, if they so much as breathed past the restrictions and sanctions now placed upon them, even if it was accidental, they would be declared traitors to the crown and the entire Lannister family would be executed.

Thus far they had been quiet and Oberyn Martell, who was acting as the castellan of Casterly Rock for him and Rhaegar, sent back weekly reports. He was very much enjoying his stay and his role as castellan of Casterly Rock. Harry knew, however, that it wouldn’t last very long, Oberyn was wont to get bored sooner rather than later and he would have to find another castellan to watch over the Westerlands for him, and to teach the little dwarf, Tyrion, who Harry had declared the Lord of Casterly Rock, snubbing Kevan Lannister’s claim to it by declaring that the law stated that all sons of the Lord came before his brothers. Oberyn was acting as a bodyguard to the little dwarf too, just in case some well-meaning person tried to kill him to put the Lordship on Kevan’s shoulders, something that Harry most certainly didn’t want.

He had already taken Kevan’s only child, his son Lancel, as a hostage. The babe, only two years old, was being fostered to the Frey’s, who had tried, as he’d known that they would, to convince him and Rhaegar that they’d been fighting for them all along and had closed the Twins to the Northernmen trying to flee back up to the Neck.

Harry didn’t believe him and true to his word, he had not given the Frey’s any sort of honour or bounty. Lord Walter Frey had asked for Riverrun as a boon for his involvement, but Harry had immediately denied them that prestigious honour, giving Riverrun instead to his false wife, Ashara, to enjoy with the husband that she would choose for herself. Instead the Frey’s got the expense of looking after a two year old boy as a hostage of the crown and they got to fawn over him about the ‘honour’ of being chosen for such a task instead.

At least Harry knew that the boy would be safe there, as Tywin and Kevan’s sister, Genna, had been married to Emmon Frey, Lord Walter’s second son. So at least Harry knew that little Lancel Lannister wouldn’t be drowned in either fork of the Trident that passed by the Twins.

He sighed and smiled as he looked around the table at his family and close friends. He might have lived for a year in stress and fear, but he and his family had come out relatively unscathed. They might have lost Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor, they’d lost their Father, and their Mother to childbed, but Rhaegar’s bruised torso had healed, Harry’s face and shoulder had healed and he’d birth Baelon in front of the remaining Kingsguard. Their children were all alive and well and growing fast and strong, Ashara and Elia had come out of the war untouched and they had a new baby sister too.

With the five dragons growing faster and stronger than their babes, their line was secured. No one wanted to take on a dragon, much less five of them, though many wanted to be rid of them. There had always been the rumour that the Maesters of the Citadel had led to the downfall of the dragons the first time around, so when the raven from the Citadel had turned up, shortly after the news that the dragons were back in Westeros once more, asking formally for the Maesters to come and study them, he and Rhaegar had unanimously, and passionately, said no together. They hadn’t even needed to deliberate or think on the matter, it had been a straight out no. They had had Grand Maester Gormon reply to his brothers at the Citadel with their answer, declining to allow them near their dragons. They were turning away people from all over Westeros, and even a few from Essos too, who were asking to see their dragons. They only allowed friends, and those they trusted implicitly, anywhere near them. Or for public services such as their coronation and down in the Great Hall earlier, where it was advantageous to show them off a little to prove that they were actually alive and real, lest people started to think that they had lied about having dragons in the first place.

 

“You’re very deep in thought.” Rhaegar whispered to him, taking his hand and stilling it from where it had been winding continuously around his Maester’s chain.

 

Harry smiled automatically at the sound of Rhaegar’s voice and he turned to look at his silver haired rider.

 

“I’m just reflecting on all that we’ve done, wondering if we’ve done enough, if I’ve forgotten or overlooked something that could prove dangerous to us later down the road.”

 

“Harry, I have known you for your entire life.” Rhaegar told him. “So I can tell you, with certainty, that you’re overthinking things. You are looking for problems that aren’t there. Just stop and give yourself a rest. You have done more than enough for our family and what will come in the future will come, whether you sit here and think about it endlessly for the next several years until something actually does happen or not, it will likely still happen.”

 

“But if I think of it beforehand I can prepare more for…”

 

“No.” Rhaegar interrupted. “You can strategise on the edge of a blade, Haradarian. You can take in information and have a plan ready in an hour. You don’t need to plan ahead, you don’t need to endlessly torture yourself in this way with scenarios that may not ever come to pass. Let yourself breathe, let yourself relax, we’ve won, Harry and it’s over now. Enjoy that before you think ahead to the next rebellion or revolt because when it comes, if it ever does, I am certain that you’ll be able to plan and strategise just as quickly as you did when you received information during the war and were able to turn around with a new strategy that very same day.”

 

Harry breathed out and he smiled. He nodded in agreement to leave the remnants of the rebellion alone. Rhaegar was right, he had covered all the potential enemies they had made and he had appeased as many people as he could. Cersei Lannister was married to his loyal man in the Vale, Kevan Lannister’s son Lancel was held as a hostage with the Frey’s, Renly Baratheon was a hostage at Highgarden and Robb Stark was a hostage in their own home. There was nothing left to cover, nothing left to do. He needed to leave the rebellion alone now, it would never fully die down if he didn’t leave it alone and let it remain in the past. 

He turned and rested himself on his Husband’s strong, dependable shoulders.

 

“Okay, I’ll let it go. I’m sure that I’ve covered everything, and everyone, that I need to. I just don’t ever want anything like this happening again. Not to us and especially not to our children. I won’t be away from them in such a way or for such a time ever again.”

 

“No.” Rhaegar agreed with him, looking to their Rhaegon, Haeraenya and sweet Helaena eating their midday meals. “We will never allow this to happen to our babes. We will raise them with the means to look after themselves when we’re gone, but that will not be for many, many years to come. I’m not done giving you babes yet.” He added into his ear with a whisper.

 

Harry chuckled and he couldn’t help but smile. He sat resting against Rhaegar, keeping an ear out for Baelon or Daenerys while watching Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena eat their midday meal. Everything was once again as it should be, there was little else that needed to be done, but they would eventually have to replace the fallen members of the Kingsguard, but not yet. He had meant it when he’d said that his trust had been shaken by Jaime Lannister’s betrayal. He would have to make careful selections after consulting heavily with Rhaegar and they would raise them up slowly and carefully, one by one. It would be a while before their Kingsguard was back to full strength, but Harry was alright with that when the alternative was to raise three new members together, too quickly and without the proper deliberation that it needed, and then regretting it later down the road if they too turned out to be traitors and turncloaks like Jaime Lannister.

But at this moment in time, he was very happy and he felt safe and secure with those around him. Things would inevitably change because of the rebellion, there was no possible way that it couldn’t change when half of the Great houses of the realm had been changed or wiped out entirely. There were no Baratheons of Storm’s End anymore, no Arryn’s of the Vale and no Tully’s of Riverrun. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock were under a castellan and the Starks were being held in check with a hostage. The only lands of the realm that hadn’t changed were the Tyrells of the Reach, the Martells of Dorne and themselves, the Targaryens of the Crownlands. It could be argued too that the Iron Islands hadn’t been changed as they were still under the control of the Greyjoy family, but as they had taken no part of the rebellion, it could be said that they were of no consequence. They had tried to raid the realm as they had been warring, but ultimately they had failed and Lord Quellon Greyjoy had been killed at the Mander, to be succeeded by his eldest son, Balon, when Harry had sent orders to the Shield Islands to protect the coast and they had sent out longboats that had struck back at the Ironborn and had defeated them.

He blew out all of his breath and he let it go, pushing it from his mind. He stood up immediately at Daenerys’ first cry and he was holding her on the second, shushing her gently and twirling the curly silver hair through his fingers gently.

He sat down and lifted his tunic, letting her latch onto him, drinking Baelon’s milk, but he didn’t mind being his sister’s wet nurse. It had been a bit uncomfortable at first, a little odd, but as he had gotten over feeding in public, so too had he come to terms with feeding his own sister.

 

“Is she well?” Rhaegar asked as he was just finishing up his own meal.

 

Harry nodded as he looked up from her sweet, perfect face. “She’s alright, she was just hungry.” He smiled. “We’re going to be just fine.”

 

“Of course we are. All of us.” Rhaegar agreed.

 

Harry couldn’t stop the grin blossoming over his face. “Tonight, I think we should try for another baby.”

 

Rhaegar almost choked on his last bite of chicken and he laughed hard. The children all stopped to look at him as if he were the strangest creature that they’d ever seen.

 

“Don’t you think four babes and two young siblings is enough for us to handle for now?” Rhaegar asked once he’d calmed down and swallowed the chicken with the help of a mouthful of wine. “Not to mention the five dragons.”

 

“Of course not.” Harry laughed. “Not nearly enough, my love. You need to do better than two sons and two daughters if you want to keep me happy.”

 

Harry winked at his Husband and Rhaegar smiled back at him. Harry knew then that everything truly would be fine. Rhaegar was right, the rebellion was over and things were settling. It might take a few more years still for the realm to heal over the scars that the rebellion had left behind, but they would truly, truly be fine. Harry smiled and he settled back and cradled Daenerys softly.

Baelon started wailing and Harry rolled his eyes, picking up his six turn old son and latched him onto his other breast, opposite his aunt. Perhaps it would be better if he and Rhaegar had another egg this time and then a baby afterwards. He chuckled to himself softly.

No, he was fine, his family were fine and everything was going to end up just fine. He just had to relax himself a little and he had to learn to put his trust back into those around him, but most of all, he needed to learn to trust in himself more. Rhaegar was right about one thing, he could plan and strategise on the edge of a blade, if anything went wrong, he could formulate a plan to counteract it quickly enough. He just needed to trust in himself, trust in his abilities to protect those he loved.

He let go of all of his stress and his fears and he sighed before smiling down at the boy and girl in his arms, feeding from his body. Everything was going to be utterly perfect, he would ensure it with his very life if it came down to it. Nothing would be allowed to harm his children, his little brother or baby sister. They needed to think carefully about the Kingsguard now, about the city gold cloaks and the small council too. It was time for a change and after the Mad King, any change that he and Rhaegar implemented could only be a good thing from here on in. They would make things right, they would make things stable and they were going to settle in for the long run, for he knew it in his heart, they would be co-kings for a very long time, they were going to rule, in relative peace and happiness, for many, many years to come.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And this is the last chapter of this story. We have just the epilogue left now, but that takes place in the year 306AC, so we have a rather large jump in the next chapter of roughly twenty-two years.
> 
> It’s not quiet finished yet, in fact it’s not even close, so I’m going to have to pull my finger out and get that finished and done so that I can lay this fic to rest.
> 
> This chapter is a week late, because the word count kept growing and then the read through just took forever because of that, but it is now done and posted! I hope that you’ve all enjoyed it and now the rebellion is over! The epilogue will be tying up loose ends and of course we see the adorable Rhaegon as a strong, twenty-five year old man! He’s older in the next chapter than Rhaegar was in this one! But I will tie everything off, and hope that I don’t miss anything!
> 
> But it has been an utter pleasure to write this fic and I’d like to thank all of my fans for putting up with me while I wrote it, and ignored all of my other fics in the process, for always supporting me in whatever I do, even if it is working on unpublished fics for several months at a time. Thank you!
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you’ve enjoyed this fic, come and join me on Facebook if you haven’t already, I’m on there under the penname Star Mass, the link to it is on my profile page. But until the epilogue, lovelies!
> 
> StarLight Massacre. X


	6. 306AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is for Sif Shadowheart and Araea Swiftwind, thank you both for putting me at ease when I started to panic, as I usually do before posting a first or final chapter, and for calming me down. I appreciate everything that you have done for me greatly, lovelies! Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Incest, Mpreg, Preg, gender fluidity, death, injuries, broken bones, a dragon eating a man whole, menstruation, forced marriage, dragonfire, captivity, mild starvation and dehydration.
> 
>  
> 
> Rhaegar – May 259AC – 47 years old
> 
> Haradarian – July 265AC – 41 years old
> 
> Viserys – March 276AC – 29 years old
> 
> Daenerys – February 284AC – 22 years old
> 
> -x
> 
> Rhaegon – November 280AC – 25 years old
> 
> Haeraenya/Helaena – May 282AC – 24 years old
> 
> Baelon – October 283AC – 22 years old
> 
> Aenys/Aerin – June 285AC – 21 years old
> 
> Valarr – September 286AC – 19 years old
> 
> Aelinor/Aelora – July 287AC – 18 years old
> 
> Maelor/Maella – January 290AC – 16 years old
> 
> Naerys – April 293AC – 13 years old
> 
> Aenar/Aeron – August 297AC – 8 years old
> 
> -x
> 
> Balerion – September 283AC – 22 years
> 
> Viserion – September 283AC – 22 years
> 
> Rhaelys – September 283AC – 22 years
> 
> Pyrexian – September 283AC – 22 years
> 
> Xeraxys – September 283AC – 22 years
> 
> Saera – August 284AC – 21 years
> 
> Vhaerys – December 285AC – 20 years
> 
> Aelyx – January 288AC – 18 years
> 
> Aedys – June 288 AC – 18 years
> 
> Maegon – December 288AC – 17 years
> 
> Daegon – February 291AC – 15 years 
> 
> Laeraxes – March 300AC – 6 years old
> 
>  

 

June 306AC

 

Haradarian ‘the Heart’ Targaryen smiled gently as he watched the wispy clouds roll lazily across the sky from one of the numerous balconies that jutted out of the rebuilt Targaryen palace at Summerhall.

He had had his last children now he believed, twin boys that he’d named Aenar and Aeron, they were currently eight years old, but they’d be turning nine in just two turns. He’d had his very last egg too, six years ago, a beautiful purple and black egg that had hatched into an even more beautiful dragon, Laeraxes. His twin boys were his thirteenth and fourteenth children. Laeraxes was his twelfth dragon.

 

“There you are!” Rhaegar said with a relieved sigh that spoke volumes as to how long he had been searching for him, to how many balconies and small private gardens hidden away in the monumental palace that he’d visited to look for him. Rhaegar approached him immediately, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and bending slightly to kiss the back of his neck. “Trying to get some peace, my love?”

 

Harry chuckled softly. “Does it ever work?”

 

“Not for very long, one of them always needs us and it doesn’t matter how well we hide, they always find us. Are you looking out for…?” Rhaegar trailed off, deep worry showing on his strong, beautiful face as he looked out to the horizon with him.

 

“You know that I am. It has been four days now and we haven’t had a single sighting of him, I’m really worried, Rhaegar.” Harry said as he let his own gaze sweep over the bright blue sky, looking for any dark shapes that might indicate a soaring dragon.

 

“We should go out and look for him.” Rhaegar said. “I’ve already sent ravens to Sunspear, to Starfall and to Haeraenya at Godsgrace. But it’s not like Aelyx to fly off on his own. He was always more content to stay close to Summerhall. This sudden change is deeply worrying.”

 

“Mother! Father!”

 

Harry and Rhaegar shared a look and they smiled at one another.

 

“I’m blaming that one on you; he obviously followed you up here.” Harry told his husband. “What is it, Baelon?” Harry called out to his second oldest son, who was coming up to his twenty-third name day.

 

“Aedus is wailing without pause again and Joy and I don’t know what’s wrong with him, can you help us, please?” Baelon, silver haired and purple eyed, begged them, as he found where they were hiding and came out onto the balcony with them.

 

Harry sighed wearily. “I told you and Joy yesterday, Baelon, he’s just teething. Give him the orange to bite on.”

 

“He won’t bite the damned orange, Mother!” Baelon insisted hotly.

 

“Watch your tone towards your Mother.” Rhaegar chastised sternly, immediately. His arms clenched around Harry’s waist gently in reaction to his own anger.

 

“Sorry, Mother.” Baelon apologised, a little shamefaced for his sharpness.

 

Harry sighed heavily. “Okay, alright, where is he?”

 

“Joy had to take him out to the solar gardens, Viserys threatened to throw him off the topmost balcony if we didn’t stop his cries.”

 

Harry groaned and shook his head. He started the trek through the halls of Summerhall, going down a floor before he went to the very large solar and out into the rather large, enclosed garden behind it. He followed the ear piercing screams which led him to finding his good-daughter and his newest grandson standing in the shade of a fig tree.

 

“Joy.” He greeted with a smile over the noise of the wailing babe in her arms, who was just a few turns old.

 

The beautiful Joy Penrose had immediately caught their Baelon’s eye when she’d attended a tourney that he’d been squiring at for his older brother, Rhaegon. They had been courting ever since and they had finally married last year. Aedus was their first babe and he’d end up being their only if he carried on squalling for every hour of the day and night.

Joy was a nice, sweet girl and Harry did approve of her and her match to Baelon, it was just that she wasn’t as strong as he would have liked for one of his children. This was one case where allowing their child to marry for love had worked out, as both Baelon and Joy were very happy and very much in love with one another, but Joy was a nice, docile girl and she lacked all substance and backbone in Harry’s opinion.

 

“I can’t get him to stop crying.” Joy was almost in tears herself and Harry smiled kindly at her, even as he mentally told her to toughen up, and he took his youngest grandson, Aedus, from her and into his own arms.

 

As soon as Harry threw the boy over his shoulder and rubbed his back exactly how he liked, his cries trailed off into softer whines and then he calmed down completely, snuffling his wet face into Harry’s neck as he finally stopped his crying.

 

“How do you even do that?” Baelon asked him incredulously.

 

Harry laughed. “I’ve given birth to fourteen children and twelve dragons, Baelon. After all of that you learn a trick or two to stay sane.” 

 

Harry turned the small boy down into his arms and he smiled to see beautiful purple eyes glimmering back at him, surrounded by thick, wet eyelashes that were clumped together by tears.

 

“What’s all this?” He asked the tiny boy softly. “I know that you’re in pain, Aedus, but giving everyone else earaches and throbbing heads is not the way to go about things.” He smiled at the babe in his arms and kissed him gently.

 

Baelon approached him and he handed over an orange wedge wrapped up in a linen cloth. Harry took the small, covered wedge and he manipulated it gently into Aedus’ mouth. The boy immediately started gnawing on it with his pained, inflamed gums.

 

“I tried to do that and he spat it back out and threw it away.” Baelon sighed, taking his son back and cradling him gently.

 

“Just be calm, be patient and be gentle with him, Baelon. If you get stressed, anxious or angry with him, then he’ll pick up on that and he’ll react all the worse for it.” Harry said softly. “No matter how loudly he screams, no matter how angry he makes you, you must never show him such negative feelings.”

 

Baelon nodded seriously, taking in Harry’s wise words, and he held the orange wedge into his son’s mouth for him, letting Aedus clamp down tight on it, holding it still as his gnawing tried to dislodge the wedge even as it soothed his gums, the burst of orange juice a sweet reward for the small boy.

Harry went back into the solar and he sat beside Rhaegar with a groan, curling into him. They had been trying for another baby, another egg, for years now, but after he’d cut Laeraxes from his body, he had never fallen pregnant again, with either babe or egg.

He tugged on his Maester’s chain, missing its Valyrian steel links after he’d used them to make Kingsfire for Rhaegar, playing it over in his hands and through his fingers before he sighed heavily.

 

“What’s wrong, my love? You only ever play with that thing when you’re anxious.” Rhaegar told him as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s body and stilled Harry’s hands on the chain with his other.

 

“Hmm? Oh…I was just wondering why I suddenly stopped falling pregnant.” He said softly. “It did seem to come out of the blue all of a sudden, I am not that old, I am going to be turning two-and-forty at the end of the next turn and I am still fit and healthy. It was getting a little difficult to cut through the scar tissue from my previous babes, but we found that the Valyrian steel dagger works much better when we had our Valarr.”

 

Rhaegar smiled at him happily. “As much as it makes me incredibly smug to hear you wanting to carry more of my babes, I cannot say that I’m at all unhappy with the fourteen babes and twelve dragons that you’ve already given me, Harry. We have grandchildren now, our dragons are laying their own eggs, it is time for us to rest and enjo…”

 

“That’s…that’s it!” Harry said suddenly, turning to Rhaegar with wide eyes, cutting him off in mid-sentence as he had a sudden epiphany. “I stopped falling pregnant as soon as our first child had their first child! Whatever magics were sustaining my ability to fall pregnant broke as soon as the next generation of our family was secured.”

 

Rhaegar pulled him in close to comfort him as he could hear that the realisation was upsetting him.

 

“We have more than enough, my love.” Rhaegar assured him firmly. “You have been pregnant almost constantly since our marriage. You have carried a babe or an egg at least once a year except for the last few. Let us not even speak of the year two-eighty-eight. You gave us three dragons in that one year alone, Haradarian. We have enough.”

 

“I knew that I was slowing down after…after the twins Maelor and Maella. Things went downhill from them.”

 

“Five sets of twins you’ve given us over the years, my love. Who would have ever believed us so blessed?” Rhaegar smiled gently. “It is time to enjoy ourselves. To enjoy the children that we have and the grandchildren that they’re going to give us.”

 

Harry sighed and he frowned. “Perhaps. There’s nothing that we can do about this anyway. Six years without a pregnancy now.”

 

“I love you.” Rhaegar said softly and he kissed Harry’s mouth, enjoying the softness of those pliant lips under his own.

 

“Mother!”

 

Harry sighed exasperatedly as he broke away from the sweet kiss to look at his beautiful daughter, Naerys. She was thirteen years old with beautifully waved, silver hair and his own bright, green eyes. She had yet to flower, but that didn’t stop others from trying to court her before she was ready or from trying to wrangle a betrothal to her as she was the last of the Targaryen Princesses and the only one who was still unattached after their Maella had entered into a betrothal with her crush, Lewys Lydden.

Harry and Rhaegar protected her fiercely and hit back at those who claimed that she was of marrying age by pointing out that she was still just a girl, that she hadn’t flowered yet and as such she was not of child bearing age and was most certainly not eligible for marriage.

Their Naerys was certainly the apple of her Father’s eye and Harry watched as Rhaegar’s dopey face broke into a soft smile as he looked upon their youngest daughter.

 

“What is it, Naerys?” Harry asked.

 

“Maelor keeps pulling on my hair and he’s got sticky fingers because he’s eaten a peach!”

 

“Maelor! Stop pulling on your sister’s hair!” Harry called out loudly.

 

“I didn’t pull it, Mother!” Their sixteen year old son insisted hotly. “She walked past and her hair brushed my fingers. It wouldn’t have happened if she cut it once in a while!” He groused.

 

“Alright, go and wash your hands so they aren’t as sticky. Naerys, come here sweet one.”

 

Harry spun his daughter around and he run his fingers through her beautiful, silver hair that reached the tops of her thighs. She had always refused to cut it, from a very young age and honestly, the silver strands got everywhere and they were always in the way and Naerys spent half of her days tending to it, but it kept her happy and Harry was unwilling to force the issue, even when situations like this arose. He found the sticky patch at the end of her tresses and he carefully worked out the sticky peach juice, separating the strands as much as he could.

 

“There you go, sweetness. You can wash it tonight while you bathe.”

 

Naerys nodded. “Thank you, Mother.”

 

She gave him a hug, gave her adoring Father a kiss and then walked off.

 

“She is definitely your favourite daughter.” Harry teased.

 

Rhaegar scoffed. “I don’t have a favourite.” He said. “I adore all six of my sweet daughters and all eight of my strong sons.”

 

“Our Valarr is not as strong.” Harry said quietly.

 

“No, he’s too shy and sweet. Our Aerin however _is_ strong, but I always knew that he’d be more like us, that said though to be caught coping off with a servant boy in the godswood, of all things, of all places!”

 

“He’s one-and-twenty and he’s rather shy too. Let him fuck who he wants to fuck. He wants to join the Kingsguard and he hopes that it’ll cover for his… _behaviours_ with the boys around him.”

 

“Half of our sons want to join the Kingsguard.” Rhaegar chuckled. “The current Kingsguard has certainly impressed our sons.”

 

“Most of them are already married and thus they can’t serve, our Aerin is never going to marry a woman or Father a child, he likes boys, like us. If he wants to be raised to the Kingsguard, let him.” Harry said.

 

Rhaegar considered it and then he shook his head with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t right to have our own son give his life to protect us, perhaps when our Rhaegon takes the Iron Throne. It is more acceptable for a brother to give his life for a brother.”

 

Harry looked over to the big, bulky man on the floor, acting a fool for the small girls sat before him. His four year old daughter, Shaea and his two year old daughter, Rhaenys.

 

“He’ll be a good King when the time comes.” Harry said with a smile.

 

“He will, I just wish that we hadn’t been forced to marry him to a Lannister.”

 

“They were working up to another rebellion.” Harry said sadly. “Rhaegon was quite taken with Janei and he insists that it’s no hardship. She was taken with him too.” He added as he looked at the darling Janei Lannister, Kevan’s only daughter, who was chuckling daintily at Rhaegon’s behaviour with their two young daughters. She fit right in with her green eyes and blonde hair, though she was more golden blonde than the silver blonde of the Targaryens and her eyes were a paler green than Harry’s own.

 

It had been eight years ago, in the year two-ninety-eight AC, when he’d heard that the Lannisters were subtly amassing their strength and that they were holding secret meetings that included several Maesters of the Citadel. Harry had been furious that the Lannisters, and the Maesters, were trying to figure out a way to get rid of his dragon babes and were planning to attack his family to take the Iron Throne from them.

Harry had acted swiftly and he had crushed the Lannister rebellion before it could even properly start and he’d taken Kevan Lannister’s younger brothers, Tygett and Gerion, as hostages, as well as his only daughter, Janei. That had been when Rhaegon had seen her for the first time, as she was escorted into the Red Keep back at Kings Landing by himself.

They might have been forced to marry Rhaegon and Janei together, but on their son’s part, it wasn’t any sort of punishment, which helped Harry to sleep easier at night, at least.

Kevan Lannister was now a broken man. He’d lost his older brother, Tywin, in the war of the would be usurper and his oldest son, Lancel, his only child at the time, had been taken as a hostage and given into the care of the Freys. He’d lost his nephew, Jaime, in the same rebellion and his niece, Cersei, had been married off uncaringly to the newly raised Lord of the Vale, Amory Mallery.

Harry had thought that that would be enough, but no, Kevan Lannister wanted to be the Lord of Casterly Rock, over his other nephew, Tyrion, whom Harry had declared the legal Lord of Casterly Rock during the cleaning up process after the fool’s rebellion had been put down.

Kevan had started planning another rebellion and as soon as Harry had gotten wind of it, he’d flown to the Westerlands on the back of his favourite dragon, Daegon. Their youngest dragon at that time, as Laeraxes hadn’t been born, he’d been a very eager seven year old. Coloured a deep black and edged with a glittering gold, he looked impressively majestic. His gold eyes, horns and spinal ridges shone in the sun as he landed gracefully, right in front of the gates to Casterly Rock, sending smallfolk running and screaming as Daegon let out a thunderous roar that silenced all other noises for several moments before the people reacted to his sudden presence.

Harry had taken the place by storm, right as they’d been in the middle of one of their little meetings. He’d taken Tygett and Gerion captive, and he had slung Kevan’s maiden daughter over his shoulder, sneering back at the restrained man. ‘How many children do you need to lose, Lannister? I think you have the two sons left, the twins, can you really afford to lose them too?’

Kevan’s wife, Dorna, had needed to be restrained as Harry had stolen her ten year old daughter from her side and carried her off on the back of a dragon. Tygett and Gerion had been taken back to the Capital by half of the Kingsguard, the three of them had been in charge of a score of men, that Harry had sent on ahead of him to arrive just as he did on Daegon. All of the Maesters involved had been stripped of their chains and exiled to Essos. The brothers were both confined to separate tower rooms back at Kings Landing, that while comfortable and plush, were still prison cells no matter how dressed up they were. The two could never leave, not unless they wanted to jump from their tower windows onto the stone below.

The Lannisters had not made a peep since Harry had stormed their home with Daegon and Harry hadn’t seen them since he’d all but forced them to attend Janei’s wedding to Rhaegon five years ago. They had had two daughters together and they were very happy with their marriage and their own small, budding family. The only Lannister to come and see the babes had been Lord Lannister, Tyrion, whom got along really well with him and Rhaegar, perhaps realising that he was only the Lord of Casterly Rock because Harry had decreed it as so.

Their darling Helaena had married first out of all their children and Harry had been right. She had been the better fit for Willas Tyrell, who was gentle and patient and frightfully intelligent. He was a good fit for their sweet and quiet Helaena, who was more observant and liked to watch before she acted.

They had been betrothed when Helaena had first flowered at thirteen and they had married four years later, when Helaena was seventeen. It had been an excruciating time for him, and for Rhaegar too, to watch as their daughter’s Targaryen cloak was taken from her shoulders and swapped for the golden rose of Highgarden, going from their protection into Willas Tyrell’s. Worse still was watching their daughter being stripped bare as men flung ribald jokes at her and complimented her body and breasts, as they readied her for her bedding. He’d almost been sick, but he’d held his stomach, and his smile, for his laughing, giggling daughter who only had eyes for her new husband, even as Willas’ brother Garlan had carried her to her marriage bed, gallantly and fiercely fending off the other men that had crowded around to try to grope at Helaena. Harry had lain awake that night, crying on Rhaegar until his eyes were red and puffy and his throat was sore.

Willas and Helaena had had a son, Garyn, together nine turns later, the new generation of house Tyrell of Highgarden. He was Harry and Rhaegar’s very first grandchild. He was six years old now, just a few turns younger than their youngest babe Laeraxes, and when he’d been born, that had been when Harry had stopped falling pregnant.

Helaena lived with Willas in Highgarden, and she had done so since their marriage, when Harry and Rhaegar had escorted her to her would-be husband from the Capital, her childhood home, for her wedding which had been held at Highgarden, and not seeing his sweet daughter daily had been very hard for him to accustom to. So for the first year of her marriage he’d sent raven after raven, he had gone to visit her on the back of a dragon just to see how she was, and to help with her progressing pregnancy, but he’d since learnt to let go a little more compared to those early days.

He’d also lost Helaena’s older twin sister, Haeraenya, shortly after Helaena’s marriage to Willas, to a man named Dyon Allyrion when she had gone with Prince Lewyn and her Uncle Viserys on a simple trip to Dorne. They had stopped off at Godsgrace and that was that. Haeraenya had met with Lady Delonne Allyrion’s oldest grandson, Dyon, and they had been taken with one another ever since and they had a beautiful four year old daughter together, Daenya.

That marriage ceremony had led to their third born son, Aenys, meeting Gwyneth Yronwood, the youngest daughter of the Allyrion’s good-family, whose older sister was married to Dyon’s father, Ryon, and with that Aenys and Gwyneth had been married within the year. They had an infant son together, Gwynys.

Their younger brother Viserys had married Princess Arianne Martell, the only daughter of Prince Doran, thus bringing back the ties between the crown and Dorne after Elia’s disgrace. It helped to keep the Seven Kingdoms together in peace and it made Lewyn Martell, their loyal Kingsguard member, very happy now that his family had been forgiven for the earlier transgression where Elia had tried to convince everyone that Rhaegar had married her truly, that their wedding night had been consummated, and that Haeraenya and Helaena were their true born babes. Harry remembered Rhaegar’s ferocious anger at the betrayal, and at the time he had been convinced that Elia was not alone in the planning, nor in the enacting of the plot to sabotage their marriage and rip apart their family. He had since learnt to let it go and they were cordial to the Martell’s of Dorne once more, though they had never taken such anger out on Lewyn, who was still, and had always been, their dearest friend and confidant.

The Kingsguard were further honoured by their family when their sister, Daenerys, had chosen to marry to Ser Oslyn Whent, Lord Walter Whent’s oldest grandson, by his oldest son, putting her in direct succession for inheriting Harrenhal one day. Ser Arthur Dayne was also honoured, when their most striking daughter, Aelinor, with her silver hair and large, purple eyes, announced, rather suddenly, that she would marry Edric Dayne, Lord Alyn Dayne’s only son, Ser Arthur’s nephew. 

 

‘Does he know that you’re going to marry him?’ Harry remembered teasing her.

 

‘Of course, Mother!’ Aelinor replied affronted. ‘It wouldn’t be a marriage if he didn’t know about it! He thinks that I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.’

 

‘I look just like you.’ Aelinor’s younger, identical twin, Aelora had scoffed. ‘If he thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, then that means that he thinks I am too.’

 

‘That’s not always true, Lora.’ Rhaegar had answered before Aelinor could tear her sister’s head off. ‘Sometimes force of personality shines through brighter and that would make Aelinor appear as more beautiful to Edric.’

 

‘Thank you, Father! He wants to marry me, Aelora, not you!’

 

‘That’s okay, I know who I’m marrying too.’ Aelora said with a shy smile and Harry’s stomach had dropped at that.

 

‘Who?’ Rhaegar had asked casually, but Harry could hear the bite of paternal protectiveness behind the word.

 

‘Ren Rykker, Father. He’s been courting me for a while now and I keep acting like I’m not interested, but he is very handsome.’

 

Harry had breathed easier and he’d shared a look with Rhaegar. A look that clearly said that at least it wasn’t a common farmer’s boy.

 

‘Be careful stringing him along like that, sweetheart. If you keep on acting like you aren’t interested then he’ll think that you truly aren’t interested and he might move on to someone else.’ Harry had warned.

 

Aelora had looked rather alarmed at that.

 

‘Don’t move too quickly either!’ Rhaegar had cautioned immediately and Harry had chuckled under his breath.

 

Aelora and Ren Rykker, the only son of Lord Renford Rykker of Duskendale, were married within a moon turn of Aelinor and Edric Dayne, less than a year after that conversation. To make matters worse they had fallen pregnant at the same time and they’d given birth, both of them to boys, within days of one another. And thus Aeloras Dayne and Aelin Rykker were named (the both of them for their Mother’s twin) and they became the heirs to their Fathers. The Targaryen family truly were spreading wide and growing strong.

 

“You really are thinking too hard.”

 

Harry startled and he sucked in a deep breath, looking back at Rhaegar’s smiling face. He sighed and smiled too.

 

“I suppose that I was. It’s just…they’re all growing so quickly, half of our babies don’t even live with us anymore.”

 

“Because they aren’t babies any more, my love.” Rhaegar said gently. “They don’t need us as much, they have their own lives and their own families now. Of course our daughters are living with their husbands, its only right. We still have Maella and Naerys with us and most of our boys too.”

 

Harry nodded. “I’ll have to content myself with that, but even Maella is being swayed by that Lewys Lydden, they’ll be married next.”

 

“I know, my love, but they are betrothed. Maella liked him almost from the moment that she first met him after he saved that cat from those common boys. At least the grandchildren help.” Rhaegar added, pulling him in tighter.

 

“And the dragons help more.” Harry smiled. “At least they aren’t going anywhere. Except for Viserion and Vhaerys that is.” He added on, mentioning the dragons that they had gifted to their brother Viserys and the one that they had gifted to their sister Daenerys. Viserys would take Viserion back to Dragonstone when he went home and Daenerys had Vhaerys with her at Harrenhal.

 

“No, all ten of them remaining will always stay with us, but it was genius of you to think of rebuilding Summerhall. This place is perfect for hiding the dragons so that they have the space that they need to roam and fresh air to breathe, but they aren’t tempted by the close presence of people wandering around.”

 

Harry nodded and he looked at the massive solar that he’d had built for his family’s use. It would seem too big, too spacious when their children were all grown and gone off on their own separate ways, leaving just him and Rhaegar, but…on the other hand being alone meant that they could go back to being very, very affectionate and naughty with one another. He grinned and suddenly he felt much better about things, much happier.

 

“What is it?” Rhaegar asked. “What have you thought of? I know that grin well by now, nothing good ever comes from that grin, Haradarian.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Some good things come from this grin.” Harry teased.

 

“If you are talking about when you sucked me under the table while I was trying to hold a _meeting_ , you are very mistaken!” Rhaegar hissed in a very hushed voice.

 

Harry laughed loudly. “Well, I enjoyed it.” He giggled.

 

Rhaegar smiled and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too. So much, my love.”

 

“My brother, my husband.” Rhaegar added and Harry swooped in on him, cupping his smooth jaw and kissing him hard.

 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad having an empty nest.” He said quietly, into Rhaegar’s ear. “Maybe some free time, all to ourselves, will be just what we need. We’ve been forced apart these last few years, looking after children and grandchildren, looking after the realm, then there was the training of Laeraxes. Maybe it is about time that we have some time, just to ourselves so that I can fuck you on this settee without mentally scarring our children.”

 

Rhaegar groaned and he pulled at himself beneath his breeches and Harry chuckled deeply.

 

“Soon, my love. I think we can sneak away after supper a little early.” He winked and Rhaegar cursed.

 

“You are such a tease, my love.”

 

“I have been all of my life, Rhaegar. Don’t sound quite so surprised.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled and rolled Harry to hug him tighter.

 

“Oh ow!” Harry complained. “I’m not a spry twenty year old anymore, Rhaegar. I can’t bend like I used to!”

 

“I don’t know about that, you were pretty _bendy_ last night.” Rhaegar grinned. 

 

Harry laughed loudly, but he was forced to shift, to straighten out his leg as keeping it folded up put too much pressure on his hip. He cursed unhappily. When he’d been half the age he was now he’d been able to bend his body right back, he’d been able to sit on his knees for several hours before his knees or hips protested the position, now it didn’t take five minutes before his aging body was complaining. Maybe he _was_ too old to have another pregnancy, maybe it was time to settle back, relax himself and enjoy his children as they flourished into adulthood and started having their own babes and families.

They were all relatively protected here by the guards who lived at Summerhall, but they didn’t currently have their Kingsguard with them, who had all been given a short leave to visit their families while their Kings were away from the Capital in Summerhall. They would all come back to escort them home when the time came, but Harry was glad that they could allow them some free time where they didn’t have to worry about running around after fourteen children or their two parents, who happened to be the co-Kings of the Seven Kingdoms.

They had eventually replaced the three missing members of their Kingsguard, first with Ser Willem Darry, who had taken the place of his brother, Jonothor, who had died upon the Trident protecting Rhaegar. Then some moon turns later with a rising knight, Ser Arys Oakheart and then finally, after a full year with just six members of the Kingsguard, he and Rhaegar had had young Ser Balon Swann raised to the final position after he had proven his worth in a tourney held to celebrate the birth of their fifth son, Valarr, in two-eighty-six AC.

Their quiet, shy son, Valarr, was currently enthralled with an equally shy and quiet girl named Bethany Blackwood, whose Father refused to even entertain the possibility of his precious, most beloved daughter marrying, which was upsetting their Valarr, who had tried his very best to do things proper, asking for permission to see Bethany and to court her, but he had been rebuffed every single time.

 

“Maybe we should fly to Raventree and take the girl.” Harry said thoughtfully.

 

“What’s that?” Rhaegar asked, naturally not being privy to his thoughts.

 

“The girl that our Valarr wants, Bethany Blackwood. Perhaps we should take her.”

 

“We are not thieves, Haradarian.” Rhaegar reminded him. “Especially not of young maidens.”

 

“Then perhaps we could order her to come to Kings Landing when we head back.” Harry said, unwilling to give up. “Lord Blackwood is being unreasonable and he is hurting our son, I won’t stand for it.”

 

“Perhaps the threat of marrying Valarr to a Bracken will get him moving.” Rhaegar said, suggesting that they play on the fierce rivalry that the two houses held for one another.

 

“Perhaps, but that might upset Lord Bracken if we only use him as a threat.”

 

“Then we order them to visit us at Kings Landing, I will keep Lord Tytos busy while Valarr entertains his daughter. We will ask her if she wishes to stay in Kings Landing with Valarr or not when the visit ends, but if she wishes to go back home, that is the end of the matter. If she does not like Valarr as much as he likes her then we cannot force a marriage, Haradarian. He will have to find another girl to court and marry.”

 

“They’re perfect for one another. They are both quiet, gentle and shy. She won’t humiliate our son by ordering him around and making a mockery of him in public.”

 

“That’s up to our Valarr.” Rhaegar said sternly. “If he wishes to be treated as such, then he will be. If he doesn’t, he needs to stand up for himself and not allow anyone to walk all over him.”

 

Harry sighed and he looked to the nineteen year old Valarr, curled up in a soft chair, a book in his lap, utterly engrossed in its words. “He looks so much like you, like that.” He smiled.

 

“Until he looks up and shows off the eyes that he took from you.” Rhaegar said fondly. “Until him, I had worried that none of our babes would take your gorgeous green eyes, but he was the first, even if his hair is silver.”

 

“Four out of fourteen isn’t bad.” Harry grinned, knowing as he did how much Rhaegar loved his eyes and had wished for more of their children to have them.

 

“It is abysmal.” Rhaegar lamented. “Now with all the different added colours coming into our blood, it’s doubtful that our grandchildren will have your eyes.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing that you get to look into my eyes every night before we sleep and every morn when we awaken.” Harry smiled.

 

Rhaegar smiled back and brought their faces together, so that he could look into his eyes.

 

“I see so much hope, so much happiness in your eyes, my love.” He said fondly.

 

“That isn’t the colour, Rhaegar.” Harry replied. “That’s the confidence, the joy that you give to me daily.”

 

“Still such a smoother talker, Harry.” Rhaegar complimented.

 

“I have to be!” Harry teased. “I’m the one who always has to deal with things when they go wrong!”

 

“You’re the Maester of the family.”

 

“I’ll have you know that I took no oaths.” Harry said with a smile. It had become a running joke of their family and friends that he acted so much like a Maester that he had actually become one. “I can’t be called a Maester truly.”

 

“That doesn’t stop you from having the brain of one.” Rhaegar pointed out.

 

“Mother!” Their youngest child, Aeron, came pelting in through the open glass door of the solar from the garden. “Mother!” He called out again, tears in his eyes as he hurried over to him and Rhaegar, his young face very pale and urgent and his high voice was almost shrill with panic. “Aenar fell out of a tree! He won’t wake up and I don’t know what to do.”

 

Harry was gone, he did not think that he had run so fast in his life as his heart pounded in his throat, even as he tore out of the solar and into the large garden. He knew exactly which tree their Aenar had climbed and fallen from. He’d been telling his younger twins for the last few years not to climb it and Rhaegar had even plucked their Aenar from the very same tree not two weeks before with a stern warning to never try to climb it again.

He made it to the group of peach trees and he went around to the one at the back, the one out of view of the solar, and he saw his little eight year old boy sprawled oddly at its base and he immediately thought the worst as he fell to his knees, ignoring his own pain at the action, as he immediately checked Aenar’s neck for breaks before finding his pulse, calming his own breathing and heartbeat in order to check his son reliably, without his own racing heartbeat interfering.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he found the steady beat under his fingers and he moved on, checking bones for breaks and Aenar’s head for bumps. There was blood on his one arm and Harry found the nasty break, the white bone jutting through the skin at an odd angle. It was the only injury that he could see or feel. 

While Aenar was still unconscious Harry set the bone and he tore his own tunic to tie it up to prevent it from moving or jostling, at least until he could get Aenar inside and to his medical kits.

 

“Is he alright?” Rhaegar asked from behind him, his voice tight with worry and fear.

 

“He has a badly broken arm. I need to get him inside and I need my things to help him. His arm needs stitching and binding and he’ll need milk of the poppy when he wakes too.”

 

“How many times have we told them to stay away from this tree?!” Rhaegar growled.

 

“Too many. Perhaps now they’ll actually listen.” Harry sighed as he tied up the last knot. “Take him inside for me, Rhaegar.”

 

Harry looked up at the deceptive tree branches, that seemed so strong and stable, but in reality were thin and slender. All of this because his sons had wanted fresh peaches straight from the tree and were not tall enough to pick them themselves.

Rhaegar picked up Aenar gently in his big arms and Harry walked ahead to get his things ready. His children all looked at him worriedly and he sighed, but he smiled reassuringly towards them, particularly to the grey faced, teary Aeron.

 

“Aenar is alright. He has a broken arm and he’s unconscious, but he’ll be okay once I’ve patched him up.”

 

“We just wanted peaches.” Aeron said tearfully. “Aenar said it would be alright.”

 

“We’ve told you not to climb the peach trees.” Rhaegar said sternly as he carried Aenar into the solar. “They’re not strong enough to support your weight. If you’d wanted peaches you should have come and asked for help.”

 

“Will he really be okay, Mother?” Aeron asked.

 

Harry brushed his black hair from his purple eyes and he bent slightly to kiss his forehead.

 

“He’ll be just fine, a bit unhappy when he wakes up and finds that he won’t be able to use his arm for two turns, but he’ll be fine. Now stay here and let me see to him without bother or distraction.”

 

Harry followed after Rhaegar, who settled their silver haired twin onto the bed in Harry’s personal medical rooms and Harry moved around, getting what he needed.

 

“He could have died.” Rhaegar said through a lump in his throat as he touched the silver hair of their little son.

 

“He didn’t.” Harry said soothingly.

 

“He could have broken his damned neck.”

 

“He didn’t, just his arm, my love.” Harry said calmly.

 

“It could have been so much worse.”

 

“It could have been, but it wasn’t.”

 

Rhaegar swallowed hard and he breathed out raggedly, getting rid of all of his panic and fear. As he always needed to do in such crises involving his children. Harry always let him say such things, keeping calm and being soothing as he reminded Rhaegar that such a thing hadn’t happened and that their boisterous, adventurous children were (usually) perfectly fine and unharmed or going to heal up very soon.

 

“Aenar is going to be just fine, my love.” Harry smiled as he collected what he needed and he set to work. “Our boy is just unconscious after his fall and truly that’s a blessing at this moment as stitching his arm is going to hurt him. Now, I need you to hold his arm still while I clean and stitch this wound.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and he used his dagger to cut away Harry’s makeshift bindings and he held the tiny, skinny arm gently, but firmly, by the wrist and the bend of the elbow, just in case Aenar woke up and moved or in case he moved in his unconsciousness.

Harry grinded up salt and cloves then added the powder to vinegar and then that paste to boiled water before applying it to his son’s arm with a clean cloth to stop any infections from the broken bone, which had then torn through the skin.

Once done, Harry stitched up Aenar’s arm before applying even more of the salt and clove solution, mopping up the blood and then binding up the broken bone tightly with clean linen. Once he was done, Harry told Rhaegar to let go of the arm and just few minutes later, just as Harry was cleaning up the tools that he’d used and discarded any unused items, Aenar groaned and wriggled. He sniffled and whimpered and Harry shushed him gently, lightly brushing back his silver hair.

 

“Aenar, my love. You fell out of a tree.” Harry told him softy, gently. “Do you remember?”

 

“Yes, Mother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I disobeyed and climbed it when you and Father said that I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

 

“Shh.” Harry shushed him again. “It’s okay, my love. You fell and you broke your arm. Are you in much pain?”

 

Aenar nodded miserably as his purple eyes opened and peered up at him, wet from his tears and very wide with pleading for help, for him to just take away the awful pain that was making his face tight and pinched.

 

“Rhaegar, sit him up for me.” Harry said as he got out a small spoon and he picked up a vial of a thick, white potion. The milk of the poppy.

 

He dipped the spoon in and carefully measured out just half a spoon of the painkiller and he offered it to his son who swallowed it quickly. He sniffled a little more and rubbed his good arm over his face and eyes.

Rhaegar hugged him gently and kissed his brow.

 

“You’re going to be fine, Aenar.” Rhaegar assured their son. “Your Mother has fixed you up, you’ll be better by the time that we go back to Kings Landing.”

 

Aenar looked at the tight wrappings around his one arm and Harry smiled as he saw the question forming in his son’s face.

 

“When can it come off?” Aenar asked and Harry had to fight not to smile.

 

“In two turns, Aenar. Until then, it stays on at all times, even when you are sleeping. Especially when you are sleeping.” Harry amended. “Your bones need to heal.”

 

“But…they will heal, won’t they, Mother? I can still be a knight?”

 

Rhaegar laughed and Harry smiled. “It will heal, my love. Very soon too, and you can still be the most fierce knight that the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen. Just don’t take off your bindings and don’t play with it and be careful until I tell you otherwise. Now come along, your brother is very worried about you.”

 

“Is Aeron okay?” Aenar asked as he hopped off of the bed and walked, perfectly normally, towards the solar.

 

“He’s fine, just worried about you.”

 

“I’ll never climb another tree again, I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.”

 

“You can climb trees, Aenar, just not peach trees.” Rhaegar told him. “Their branches cannot support the weight of a person.”

 

Aenar nodded, but he was still a little shamefaced for ignoring their years of warnings, but Harry sighed and put it behind him. Aenar had ultimately chosen not to listen to their warnings and he’d learnt an important, and painful, lesson on his own. It had left him with a broken arm, but Harry was certain that Aenar, and Aeron too, would now never climb a peach tree ever again.

 

“Aenar, are you okay?” Aeron ran over to hug his twin brother, their contrasting hair at odds with their perfectly matching faces and the same coloured eyes. Aeron was crying more than Aenar was and Harry smiled and touched both of their heads and he moved to sit back down with a groan. He _was_ getting too old for all of this.

 

“I’m okay. I have to wear this for two whole turns!” Aenar complained, indicating his bound arm.

 

“I got the peaches.” Aeron offered, holding out a plump, succulent peach for Aenar.

 

“You’d better not have gone up that tree!” Aenar chastised his brother like Rhaegar usually would and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t even look at Rhaegar, he knew that if he did then he was going to burst out laughing.

 

“Of course I didn’t! Not after what happened to you. Rhaegon picked me up to get my own peaches. He’s really tall so he can reach them without climbing!”

 

“All you had to do was ask!” Rhaegon said sternly, at odds with his soft actions as he cut up portions of juicy peach with his favourite dagger to feed to his two girls, who were both at his knees, mouths open like newly hatched birds waiting to be fed. “You could have both died.”

 

“They didn’t, so calm yourselves.” Harry encouraged softly. “They’re both fine and I distinctly remember every single one of you doing ridiculously stupid things when you were children too.” Here he gave a pointed look to Rhaegon, who went red and averted his gaze, but still managed to pop a small, sliced chunk of peach into Shaea’s mouth with his fingers.

 

When he was ten he’d thought that he was ready for a real sword and he hadn’t been able to understand why he wasn’t allowed one when he was so good with his wooden practice sword. So he’d snuck into their bedchambers and he’d taken Rhaegar’s Valyrian sword, Kingsfire from where it was kept with his polished suit of battle armour. It had been too big, too long, too bulky and the grip was too much for his small hands to handle. He’d almost cut off his own leg when he’d tried to swing it and had overbalanced, dropping the deadly sharp blade and he had opened up a wound from knee to ankle in his own leg.

Ser Arthur had heard him screaming and had gone running. Harry had never seen him so scared nor so pale as when he’d carried a screaming Rhaegon to him, his little son covered in blood, in utter agony and completely terrified. Rhaegon still had the scar from that injury running down his leg and he would carry it for the rest of his life. But at least his fears of those early days had not come true, when he had thought, when they had all thought, that the wound went too deep for Rhaegon to ever walk again.

Rhaegar had almost had a fit afterwards and he’d started locking up his sword and all his daggers to keep them safe. He’d sat down with Rhaegon once he’d recovered and they’d had a very long, very serious talk about why it wasn’t safe for Rhaegon to have his own, real sword until he was old enough to handle the length of one without overbalancing.

 

“We all make mistakes and we all learn from them.” Harry said softly. “We all do things at times without thinking them through first, it’s how we handle those things and how we act afterwards that matters the most.”

 

“Will he be okay, though?” Their soft, sweet Valarr asked, his wide green eyes, so much like his own, looked from his brother to his Mother pleadingly.

 

Harry stood up again and he went to hold his Valarr gently. “He’ll be just fine, Valarr. As long as he doesn’t play with his arm or the bindings.” He said seriously, directing the last to Aenar.

 

“I won’t, Mother.” Aenar said. “I want it to come off soon. I don’t want to be stuck in it for a year like Aerin was when he broke his wrist.”

 

Their fourth son, Aerin, only distinguishable from his older identical twin brother, Aenys, by his longer hair, scowled at the reminder that when he was eighteen, three years ago now, he had broken his wrist in a tourney. He had not left the bindings alone and he had stubbornly tried to practice his swordsmanship with his broken wrist. He’d been in his bindings for a little under a year…nine and a half turns, and he had been angry and miserable throughout.

 

“Learn from Aerin’s foolishness.” Maelor, their only child to take completely after Harry with his black hair and bright green eyes, told Aenar. “He was stupid and didn’t listen to Mother.”

 

“Shut up, Maelor!” Aerin burst out.

 

“Don’t you shout at him!” Maella burst out in automatic defence of her twin, looking up from the dress that she was making. “It’s not his fault that you were stupid and didn’t listen to Mother!”

 

“Don’t call him stupid!” Aenys joined the fight, his infant son, Gwynys, dribbling on his knee, and Harry sighed wearily. The gods truly had been playing a trick on him giving him so many sets of temperamental twins. They fought mostly with each other, but if someone, anyone, turned on their twin, that was it. The both of them turned on that person to devastating effect…unless it was two sets of twins on one another, then things got loud. Really loud.

 

“Stop it.” Harry said lowly, warningly, cutting through their argument before it could escalate to a fight. “Aerin learnt from his injuries, as must Aenar. Maelor, don’t tease him about it, he was in constant pain and living with such an injury made it hard to ignore and it was harder to keep his wrist still. If you don’t believe so, let me bind up your wrist and you’ll see how difficult it is to not move such an important body part.”

 

No one said anything and Baelon broke the tension by walking in from the garden with his own infant son, Aedus. His wife, Joy, was laughing behind him at something that he’d said.

 

“Aenar, what have you done?” Baelon asked when he caught sight of his younger brother’s ashen face and bound arm.

 

“I broke my arm.”

 

“You climbed the peach tree, didn’t you?” Baelon said sternly.

 

Aenar nodded miserably as his brother Aeron, gently stroked the bindings.

 

“Aeron, my love, be gentle with your brother’s arm.” Harry said. “He can’t touch it and neither can anyone else.”

 

Aeron pulled his hand away quickly and he looked so upset that Rhaegar swept him up and kissed his cheek.

 

“Your brother will be fine in just a few turns.” Rhaegar told him. “Your Mother is an amazing Maester.”

 

“I’m not truly a Maester.” Harry reminded endlessly.

 

“You have more knowledge and more experience than most true Maesters.” Rhaegar said stubbornly and that made Harry laugh.

 

“Pass me Aedus, let me hold my little grandson.” Harry said to Baelon, who strode over and handed him his son, who was finally sleeping.

 

Harry relished holding such a tiny babe again and he smiled. He would never get to do this again with his own babes, but holding his grandchildren truly helped and he inhaled deeply the scent of Aedus, who smelt clean and fresh, like all new babes did.

They would be going back to Kings Landing soon. They’d had a three turn break, leaving the realm in the hands of their very capable small council and the very abled Hand that they had in Lord Jon Connington. Lord Jon who had never married, had never had his own children and had never given up his desires for Rhaegar, nor the hope that perhaps, one day, Rhaegar would see his love and reciprocate it. Harry had lessened his spite towards him somewhat, but he hadn’t given it up entirely. He would always be a jealous man at heart.

Before they went back to the Capital, the seven members of their Kingsguard would arrive here at Summerhall to escort them back…all except for Baelon, Joy and Aedus, who lived here at Summerhall, as Baelon was the Prince of Summerhall and this entire palace was his. Aerin, and his twin brother Aenys, along with his wife Gwyneth and their son Gwynys, were staying with Baelon here, as was Viserys and his wife Arianne for another few turns before they went back to their home on Dragonstone, as Viserys was still the Prince of Dragonstone. He and Rhaegar had never taken that from him in favour of their own children, they had practically raised Viserys as their son, and they _had_ raised Daenerys as their own daughter, they were as much their own children as they were brother and sister. Their Valarr, who had stayed here at Summerhall for the last several turns, now wished to ride back to Kings Landing with them.

It was hard to leave his children all over the Seven Kingdoms, but Rhaegar was right, they were fully grown now, and very soon, all of his children would be fully grown and off living their own lives.

He sighed and smiled at his youngest grandchild so far. None of his children were pregnant or expecting babies that he knew of, but his sister, Daenerys was pregnant with her first child with Ser Oslyn Whent, who according to her last raven was so overprotective that he flapped like an overgrown vulture if she so much as needed to use the privy by herself. It made Harry smile to think about as he thought back to how Rhaegar had acted in those early days, trying to protect him and be with him, but hiding that they were in a relationship and hiding the fact that Harry was pregnant in the first place had made things much more difficult.

Rhaegon’s oldest daughter, his four year old Shaea, ran over to him and she held her hands up. Harry smiled and swept her up and sat her on his knee.

 

“Is baby Aedus hungry?” She cooed, looking at her tiny cousin.

 

“No, darling. He’s very sleepy now. He needs his rest.” Harry told her.

 

“He’s cried himself to sleep then?” The twenty-nine year old Viserys asked as he strolled into the solar. “Thank the Seven for that.”

 

“He has, now what is this about you threatening to throw him off a balcony?” Harry asked sternly.

 

“I was only jesting.” Viserys waved away. “I went down to see the dragons instead.”

 

“How are those two clutches of eggs?” Harry asked.

 

Viserys smiled excitedly. “It won’t be long before they hatch. Saera wouldn’t even let me go near her clutch and Pyrexian is little better, but I checked all five eggs and they are still as beautiful as ever and all undamaged.”

 

“Can I have my own dragon with this clutch?” Rhaegon asked excitedly. “I’m a Father now, I can look after a dragon too!” He insisted.

 

Harry and Rhaegar shared a look, teasing their son. They’d already decided that their Rhaegon deserved his own personal dragon with this new clutch.

 

“I think that perhaps it is time that we trusted you with your own dragon.” Rhaegar told their son.

 

“You can pick one when they hatch.” Harry added.

 

“Truly?” Rhaegon asked excitedly. “Aunt Daenerys has her own dragon and she’s younger than I am, do I finally get my own?”

 

“Your Aunt Daenerys is living away in Harrenhal, we wanted her to have some personal protection and Vhaerys loved the two year old Daenerys almost from hatching, the two of them are inseparable. Do you remember, Rhaegar?”

 

Rhaegar smiled and it made Harry’s heart lighten, he loved that smile on Rhaegar’s beautiful face.

 

“I remember this tiny, regal purple and silver tinted speck that looked like a lizard with overlarge wings clambering all over poor Daenerys and following every single step that she made.” Rhaegar recalled fondly.

 

“That is why your Aunt Daenerys has Vhaerys, he wanted _her_ from the moment of his hatching. He chose her himself and he would rebel if we tried to separate them. But you’re five-and-twenty now, Rhaegon my love, it’s about time that you had your own dragon to rear.”

 

“I hope for the blue and purple egg, the one that’s in Pyrexian’s clutch.” Rhaegon said wistfully. “But truly, I’d be happy with any one of them.”

 

“You’d be better off going and spending some time with them, Rhaegon.” Rhaegar advised their son. “Daenerys and Vhaerys have such a strong bond because she liked to cradle his egg when she was sleeping, she would cry if we tried to take it from her or if she woke up without it in her arms if we’d taken it the night. He got used to her and her voice before he’d even hatched. So he naturally went looking for her once he’d hatched and was able to move himself around.”

 

“Do you think Pyrexian would allow me to take the egg to sleep with it? Vhaerys was one of your eggs, Mother.”

 

“Pyrexian allows us to handle her eggs, as does Saera. At the end of the day, I birthed them myself, the eggs they have had are my grandchildren too, so they allow Rhaegar and I to handle them, they’re just a bit wary if anyone else approaches them.” Harry explained.

 

“If you came down with either myself or your Mother, then Pyrexian might be a little more receptive to your approach, Rhaegon. Just let Pyrexian nurse and rear the hatchling for a week or two and then you can have him.” Rhaegar explained. “It’ll be easier on them both if you aren’t unsupervised with the eggs, they worry otherwise.”

 

Rhaegon nodded excitedly and he went back to his youngest daughter.

 

“Does that mean I can have my own dragon?” Baelon asked. “I know I am their guardian as Summerhall is mine and the dragons stay here at Summerhall with me, but I don’t have a dragon to call my own.”

 

Harry chuckled. “I hope you aren’t conspiring to have all of my children taken from me.”

 

“I think that Baelon should have his own egg.” Rhaegar told him. “He’s old enough and responsible enough now.”

 

Harry hummed, looking from his brother-husband to his son. They were both so alike with their silver hair and purple eyes.

 

“Perhaps, we shall see.” Harry said calmly. “But a warning to the both of you boys when you do eventually get your first egg, if you mistreat those eggs or the hatchlings then they will be taken from you immediately and you will never get another one, ever.” He said seriously.  

 

“I wouldn’t mistreat one!” Rhaegon said immediately, utterly aghast at the thought.

 

“Of course not!” Baelon agreed with his older brother. “What a disgusting thought, Mother!”

 

Harry nodded. “Good. You reacted exactly as you were supposed to.”

 

“Let that go!” Maella shouted out. “I mean it, Aeron!”

 

Harry looked over with a sigh to see his youngest son pulling on the sleeve of the dress that Maella was making for herself.

 

“Aeron.” He called out sternly. “Maella has been making that dress for three turns! Don’t you dare tear it.”

 

“I only wanted to see what she’d done differently today!” Aeron protested his innocence. He was very clearly bored now that his twin couldn’t play with him. Aenar was dozing in a soft chair, slumped over slightly as the milk of the poppy made him sleepy and drowsy now that he was no longer in any pain.

 

“Then you need to ask!” Maella told her younger brother huffily, rolling her green eyes. “I have a needle in my hand and I was using it when you started pulling on my dress!”

 

The sixteen year old Maella patted the seat next to her and her eight year old brother sat beside her as she started pointing out everything new that she had added to her dress and she started talking about what she was going to do next.

Harry suspected that poor Aeron was bored to tears, he had no interest in dresses or how they were made or any other needlework, but Maella was a better prospect than sitting by himself or reading…much to his parent’s horror, their youngest son had absolutely no desire to pick up any sort of book to read it. The last book that he had willingly touched had been used as a weapon to throw at Maelor.

Harry stood up and he kissed Rhaegar.

 

“Keep an eye on Aenar, if any problems arise, come for me immediately. I’m going down to check on the five eggs.” He said softly. “Keep these demons under control.”

 

Rhaegar gave him a loving look. “Of course. Let me know if Aelyx has come back. He’s been gone for four days and I’m worried.”

 

“If he’s not back yet, I will take Balerion to find him.”

 

“Make sure that that mountain hasn’t crushed anymore walls.” Rhaegar added.

 

Harry laughed, remembering fondly back to when Balerion had first come to Summerhall, when it was newly built, and had promptly put in a brand new doorway for himself…right through a wall. Rhaegar had never forgotten, nor forgiven, their Balerion the Moving Mountain.

He made his way down to the dragon caves underneath the palace. He and Rhaegar had had them carved out when their first seven babies had grown bigger and needed a place to sleep that was safe. Over the years their own dragons had made them wider and had dug them deeper underground and further out into the Dornish Marshes. The biggest cave had been burrowed straight through, so that it served as an exit and an entrance for their dragons. He had been worried about this at first, as just anyone could walk in and take one of the younger dragons or the eggs, but Rhaegar had laughed at his fears. His husband had pointed out logically that absolutely no one in their right mind would ever willingly walk _into_ a cave that housed twelve dragons, two of them currently nesting Mothers. Rhaegar was right, of course. Anyone who dared even come close to the cave mouth would be squashed, incinerated or swallowed whole by any one of the twelve adult dragons that swarmed the area. Balerion in particular enjoyed bathing himself in the bright, hot sunlight, his head right by the entrance to the caves so that he could do as Harry and Rhaegar had asked him to do and look out for his brothers, and his current two sisters.

He made it to the stone steps that lead down underneath the palace and he could hear the roars and shrieks already. His dragon babes were as temperamental and as loud as his babes upstairs, it made him smile.

He reached the huge, heavy doors that were propped open, allowing for his babes to come upstairs if they wished. It was normal to come face to face with a dragon in the corridors of Summerhall, it was why the guards here always stayed behind closed doors and why the servants had their own tunnels and staircases that were smaller and narrower, so that the dragons couldn’t get through them.

Harry heard the purrs of pleasure as his babes smelt him coming and he was mobbed as he came out into the wide, cavernous social area of the caves.

 

“Alright.” He laughed as the huge dragons nudged him and batted at him with their wings and snouts. “I’ve missed you all too.”

 

He scratched at a multitude of different coloured scales, hearing the grunts and croaks of pleasure as he hit a soft spot with his nails.

 

“Have you all eaten?” He asked.

 

The dragons didn’t so much as reply to his question as they didn’t react to it, which indicated to him that they were all well fed. Usually if one was hungering they would lower themselves down in front of him at the mention of eating, indicating their hunger. He and Rhaegar had taught them well.

 

“Has Aelyx come back?” He asked, looking for the black dragon who had hints of gold and red upon him and not seeing him. He bit his lip, even as several dragons raised their heads and shrieked, calling for their missing brother.

 

Harry went looking through all of the tunnels and their ending rounded caves. He found his beautiful green and bronze Rhaelys sleeping at the end of one, pale steam rising from his nostrils with every breath. The nesting Saera was in another rounded cave and Harry took a moment to check over her two eggs, holding them gently and giving them a kiss under the watchful blue eyes of their Mother before he carried on, checking the other caves and tunnels, once again taking the time to check over the stunningly red Pyrexian and her three eggs. Aelyx was not in any of the tunnels or caves and as he made his way through the rather long and monstrously large tunnel that led to the outside, he tried not to panic as thoughts spun in his mind as to what could have happened to his eighth dragon.

He came out into the blinding, blistering sun and he took a moment to shield his eyes and accustom to the wash of heat and light after the cool, dark tunnels. A deafening rumble preceded a nudge of a snout that almost bowled him from his feet and Harry turned, smiling up at his Balerion, who had earned himself the name the Moving Mountain. Harry could see where people were coming from with that epithet, Balerion truly did look like a mountain as the ginormous dragon blinked open brilliant red eyes and rumbled again, sounding more like a thunderstorm than anything living, but Harry’s gaze softened and he smiled lovingly up at the dragon who had suckled at his own milk, from his own breasts, as a newly hatched baby who was barely bigger than a cat.

 

“Balerion.” He said, reaching a hand out to touch the snout that had lowered down to his level. “I love you. How are you?”

 

Balerion shrieked happily at his declaration of love and the sound almost pierced Harry’s eardrums, but he endured it, he was used to it by now as Balerion and his four brothers, Viserion, Rhaelys, Pyrexian and Xeraxys were now twenty-two years old, though Pyrexian chose to be a female more often than a male, so she was more of a sister.

 

“Have you eaten?”

 

Balerion shrieked again, ending with a low rumble and he dipped down. Harry truly should have known better. Balerion was always hungry.

 

“Come on then, take me with you. I want to look for your brother Aelyx.”

 

Balerion uncurled himself from the top of the mouth of the cave and he stretched, completely blocking out the sun and casting Harry in his dark shadow for several moments, before he lowered himself right down and allowed Harry to climb him like a tree. He settled himself between the two red horns on top of Balerion’s massive head and he stood carefully, holding on tightly. He dug in the heel of his right foot to indicate to Balerion that he was ready.

Flying on Balerion was always a heart stopping experience. There was nothing to stop him from falling to his death, nothing to stop Balerion from pitching him off over the mountains, over the Sea of Dorne or even as far out as over the Summer Sea. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Their Moving Mountain refused to wear any sort of saddle like his brothers and instead they had to ride him bare. As such only he or Rhaegar could ride Balerion, they wouldn’t allow their children to ride him. Harry didn’t think his heart would take the strain if he had to watch one of his children set off bareback on Balerion.

Harry looked down and he could see the landscape rushing past underneath them, he could see the sea from here and he directed Balerion to the dragons’ hunting grounds. Several massive penned fields where he and Rhaegar paid two dozen smallfolk to continuously breed a large number of pigs, cows and sheep for their dragons’ consumption. Anyone caught stealing an animal from these fields were penalised heavily…after all, as he always told them as they pleaded starvation and desperation, if the dragons started to starve, they’d look elsewhere for their food. If they had no livestock readily available to eat, they’d eat anything, including people and more often than not those who stole the livestock from the hunting grounds, were those people living closest to it, thus they and their families would be the first to be devoured as a result of their theft.

He and Rhaegar had had their hands full teaching the dragons, particularly their first five, purely because there had been so many of them at the same stage of life as they had all been hatched together. But one of their teachings was to stop the dragons from seeing humans as food. They would always go for a sheep or a cow first, but if they had nothing left to hunt then Harry was absolutely sure that they would then eat anything that moved. Horses, deer…children. No one would be safe if the dragons ran out of their food supply, which was why they accepted any donations of livestock from anywhere. Lame horses, unbreedable livestock, or even perfectly good livestock that other realms gave to them to keep them sweet. They had kept to their solemn promise though, they did not use their dragons as a method of execution. The Kings’ Justice was still carried out by the sword, or by hot pincers.

Balerion shrieked and landed in one of the fields, scattering large, plump cows and Harry held on tight as his boy immediately started hunting, gripping cows in his mouth and swallowing them all but whole. He ate four before he stopped and let out a grunt.

 

“Eat, Balerion.” Harry said sternly. “You eat until you are full.”

 

They’d been through this routine before. Balerion would only eat enough to abate his hunger for a short while. It was almost as if he felt guilty for eating too much, because he shared with his eleven brothers. He always left food for them and it made Harry so proud, but it wasn’t necessary. They had enough surplus livestock to feed Balerion well, they’d recently started breeding deer and goats and they even had two smaller pens that contained boar and oxen. They had more than enough and with the smallfolk breeding the animals, naturally keeping the pregnant animals and the young indoors, away from the feeding fields and the hunting dragons, Balerion’s restraint in feeding was just causing more harm than it was doing any good.

Harry watched everything that Balerion ate, counting it, urging him to gorge himself as they moved from the cows to the large, plump pigs.

It took Balerion an age to feed to Harry’s satisfaction and when Balerion started playing with the food before he ate it, that was when he knew that his boy had truly had enough to eat. He let Balerion finish off the last of the pig carcass that he had been playing with and then he pulled on both horns to indicate for him to stop.

 

“Come on, Balerion. We need to find your brother Aelyx.”

 

Balerion shook himself and Harry held on tightly, praying to the Seven that he didn’t plummet to his death. Thankfully he stayed put and Balerion stretched himself out and then took several running steps and took flight, his massive black wings stretching out wide.

Harry kept his eyes peeled for Aelyx, very concerned for his babe, wondering where he was and why he’d gone so far. It wasn’t like any of his babes to fly so far from home and it gave him an uneasy feeling deep in his gut. He didn’t like this at all, something was seriously wrong, he could feel it.

As they started reaching populated areas, smallfolk looked up with dread when they were cast in a deep, dark shadow…only one thing could completely block out the sun and cast them in complete darkness and it sent them running and screaming as they saw the Moving Mountain flying overhead.

Balerion landed at Highgarden with a thump that shook the ground and Balerion let out a loud, ear piercing shriek of a call, but he dropped down onto his belly, letting his head drop to the green grass when directed so that Harry could slip down and go towards the gates of Highgarden. He was unimpeded as he walked the roads, most people too terrified of the sudden appearance of Balerion to venture outside, even when they saw Haradarian the Heart walking the streets.

He made it to the castle and he grinned as a small boy came pelting out to meet him. He swung the boy up into his arms and kissed his forehead.

 

“Garyn, it’s wonderful to see you again.” He told his six year old grandson genuinely.

 

“You never sent a raven!” Garyn said excitedly. “I would have been looking out for you if I’d known that you were coming!”

 

Harry chuckled and put the excited boy down and took his hand instead. He greeted his beautiful daughter with a tight hug and a kiss to her rouged lips.

 

“You look beautiful, Helaena.” He told her before turning to his good-son. “Willas, how are you?”

 

“Your Grace. You honour us with a visit to Highgarden. Please come and refresh yourself.”

 

Harry snorted. “You’re my good-son, Willas. You have married to my beautiful, kind, intelligent daughter, that makes you family too.”

 

Regardless Harry followed the Tyrells down to an open garden and they sat at a large wicker table, servants bringing out light, summer wine and plump, fresh fruit. Harry had Garyn up on his lap, holding his grandson tightly. The boy had the Tyrell looks, like his Father, but he had Helaena’s bright purple eyes, which made for a very, very odd combination. Pale brown and bright purple did not go so well together, but it did make Garyn rather striking.

 

“Is anything the matter?” Helaena asked worriedly as soon as Harry had taken a sip of wine. “Is Father alright?”

 

“He’s fine. I left him wrangling the beasts back at Summerhall…of course he’s watching over the remaining dragons too.” He jested with a smile. “Though Aenar has broken his arm, he climbed a peach tree.”

 

Helaena gasped, her purple eyes widening. “He’ll be alright though, won’t he?”

 

“Of course, I’ve already set the bone and given him milk of the poppy. He’ll be fine as long as he rests and doesn’t play with his bindings or move his arm about. I’ve warned Aeron to be gentle with him too.”

 

“You wouldn’t have left him lightly in such a state.” 

 

Harry sighed. He often said that Helaena was his most intelligent daughter, such a thing was up for debate, but there was absolutely no denying that she was his most observant child. She could pick up on the slightest change of body language or mood and she could hone in on the problem like Balerion would hunt down his prey from the sky.

 

“Aelyx is missing.” He said, brief and straight to the point. “Has he passed this way at all?”

 

“How long has he been missing?” Helaena asked.

 

“Four days now. We have the guards looking out for him and they haven’t seen him come back. He’s not in the palace, he’s not in the dragon caves or in the surrounding area. The smallfolk who watch over the feeding fields haven’t seen him eating there for the length of time that he’s been missing. Your Father and I are worried now, so I’ve come out to look for him.”

 

“I haven’t seen him pass by.” Willas insisted. “I’ll go and ask Garlan and Loras.”

 

Willas stood and he hurried off to find his two younger brothers. Harry sighed and drank another gulp of sweet, summer wine.

 

“Do you think it’s the Maesters?” Helaena asked softly.

 

Harry put his curled fist to his mouth and said nothing for a moment as he thought hard, before moving back and dropping his hand back to his wine goblet. “I hope not, Helaena. If they have taken Aelyx as a captive, if they have found a way to imprison him and to kill him…no good can come of this. Aelyx isn’t the most tame of our hatched dragons. He is trained, of course, but if we have any choice, we will not ride him as he dislikes it, much like Balerion dislikes having a riding saddle.”

 

“Will you take me up on Balerion, Nan?” Garyn asked and Harry smiled down at him, patting his head gently.

 

“Once you’re older.” Harry told him. “You know you’re not old enough yet. You need to be how old?”

 

Garyn sighed unhappily. “Six-and-ten.” He answered miserably.

 

“Exactly.” Harry said. “But…”

 

Garyn perked up so quickly that Harry had to laugh.

 

“Saera and Pyrexian have had our first clutch of eggs that haven’t come from me. Saera has two, Pyrexian has three. Perhaps if you come to Summerhall once they’ve hatched and grown a little bigger you can ride one of the hatchlings like a pony. As your Mother did when she was a girl.”

 

“It was Aedys whom I always rode. I was about your age too, Garyn.” She said with a soft, reminiscent smile. “Aelyx was hatched just before Aedys, wasn’t he, Mother?”

 

Harry nodded. “Aelyx, Aedys and Maegon were all born within a few turns of one another in the same year.”

 

“Can I really?” Garyn asked excitedly.

 

Harry laughed and nodded. “Of course. You’ll have to fight your cousins and your Uncles and Aunts, but yes, you can ride them once they’re big enough. We have to get them used to humans as part of their training.”

 

Willas came back with his two brothers, Garlan and Loras, his sister Margaery, and the tall, rather stunning Renly Baratheon, who had chosen to be known as a Tyrell, completely eradicating his name. Harry was sure that he’d only done it so that he and Loras could pretend at being married, as he and Rhaegar were married.  

He was well able to recognise the looks between them, not to mention the servants gossiped like no other. It was well known, but kept quiet, that Loras and Renly were involved with one another very, very intimately.

 

“It is good to see you.” Garlan the Gallant greeted him genuinely.

 

“When did you get so tall, Garlan!” He teased. “You were a chubby babe playing around my feet with Rhaegon not a week past.”

 

Garlan snorted and hugged him. Harry hugged him back tightly.

 

“Willas said that one of the dragons is missing?” Renly asked. He wasn’t quite so passive anymore, Harry was sure that the young, beautiful Loras had had a hand in helping with that.

 

“Aelyx has been missing for a few days now. Rhaegar and I are rather worried. We don’t allow them to wander too far, or for so long. They know not to stay out this long and it’s rare that they ever stay out overnight. It gets cold in Summerhall and they prefer to stay in the caves, where their combined heat will keep them warm. It’s abnormal for any of them to be gone for more than a day, but for four? Something is very wrong, I just know it.”

 

“I haven’t seen any dragon passing by and I haven’t heard anyone saying as such, but he might have done so at night.” Margaery said shrewdly. “Is Aelyx one of the silent fliers?”

 

Harry nodded. “Aelyx is rather quiet for a dragon. Xeraxys will let you know where he is at every moment of the day, but Aelyx was quieter, if he makes a noise it’s often a small chirrup. If Xeraxys is our loudest, then Aelyx is certainly our quietest.”

 

“Are you going to see if he’s gone back to Kings Landing?” Helaena asked.

 

Harry nodded. “If he hasn’t gone back to Kings Landing, or to Harrenhal, then I have no idea where he’s gone, or even if he’s gone there by himself, but I would venture that he hasn’t. None of them wander off for this long without a purpose.”

 

“You think he’s been captured.” Willas said perceptively.

 

Harry bit on his lip. “I think so. It’s just too unusual.” He said. “We have trained them so well, impeccably. They know what they can do, what they can’t and where they can go. Aelyx disliked being ridden, but he was never disobedient.”

 

“Would it be the Lannisters?” Loras asked.

 

Harry hadn’t thought of that and he wondered if he would have to kill Kevan Lannister straight up. Lancel, his oldest son, was a squire, not a very good one, but he was very quiet and soft having grown up at the Twins under the oppression of the Freys and his rather formidable Aunt Genna. He and Rhaegar had deemed him as a non-threat.

Kevan had two other sons, however. Willem and Martyn Lannister, the twins. They had been left with their Mother and Father. Harry was wondering now if that hadn’t been a mistake. Obara Sand, Oberyn’s oldest bastard daughter, was currently at Casterly Rock to keep an eye on the Lannisters after her Father had gotten bored of his role as Castellan when Tyrion had come of age and had become the Lord proper of Casterly Rock, but she hadn’t reported any incidents or anything that had caused her any concern. The Lannisters had been quiet…perhaps looking back on things they were _too_ quiet.

Then there was Cersei Lannister, who was rumoured to be keeping her hated husband dosed with poison so that their son, Jaime Mallery, could rule the Vale and become the Warden of the East while his Father, Lord Amory, was stuck in his sick bed, but no Maester who had been sent to cure the ailing Lord Mallery could find anything wrong with him. They all insisted that there was nothing to cure and they had never seen the likes of his illness before. There was unrest in the Vale due to this perceived manipulation and Harry could almost feel another rebellion brewing.

Robb Stark was a loyal, wonderful, kind young man and he was still the Heir to Winterfell, over his brother-cousins, Brandon and Rickon Stark, who had been born after Eddard Stark’s widow, Catelyn, had married his younger brother Benjen, the current Lord of Winterfell until Harry and Rhaegar deemed otherwise, but Robb wasn’t ready to go to the North yet. He wanted to stay in Kings Landing and learn more first. His Mother sent him a raven at least once every turn begging him to come home and while he had taken to writing to her back, he had always refused to go Winterfell, the kingdom that he was the Heir of, but where he had never actually set foot before.

 

“It could be, but I’m more concerned with the Maesters.” Harry said wearily. “We have refused them so many times over their requests to study our dragons that I believe that they’ve found a way to take one. We would have heard of Westermen in the Stormlands, but men of the Reach being near Summerhall is normal, it’s common. So anyone sent from the Citadel would have been unnoticed.”

 

“How would they have taken Aelyx, Mother?” Helaena asked. “They couldn’t have flown him, he would not have gone. They could not have dragged him there in ropes or chains, someone would have seen it. There isn’t a cart in the whole world that could have borne the weight of him. How did they take him and get him to where he is being kept?”

 

Harry shook his head. “That is something that I don’t know, Helaena, which worries me. Aelyx is distrustful of humans, he would have taken flight if one had approached him. I don’t know what they’ve used or done to take him, but I need to find him.”

 

“You have all the force of the Reach behind you.” Willas pledged formally. “If you believe that Aelyx is in the Citadel, I will send my men to search for him. It is not like they can easily hide a dragon.”

 

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Willas.” He said gratefully. “I’ll call back in after I’ve searched Kings Landing and Harrenhal. The one time previously that we lost a dragon was when Rhaelys flew to Sunspear to visit Viserion. I am hoping that maybe Aelyx was missing Vhaerys and has flown to Harrenhal to visit him.”

 

“Do you truly believe that?” Helaena asked him.

 

He smiled weakly. “It keeps me from outright panicking, sweet one. Only after I have searched and cannot find him, will I panic and order him to be found by any means necessary. Until then we are acting merely as if he has gone off on his own, but Dany has not sent word that he is there with her, and I fully believe that if Aelyx had turned up at Harrenhal, then she would have sent a raven, as Viserys did when Rhaelys turned up at Sunspear without a rider.”

 

“I hope he is at Kings Landing or Harrenhal.” Margaery said graciously.

 

Harry inclined his head. He hoped so too, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this had nothing to do with Aelyx missing Vhaerys and everything to do with the Maesters who wanted to study the dragons and find a way to eradicate them once more, as they had done to the last Targaryen dragons. He was glad to have the support of Willas and Highgarden, he would need it if he was to take on the Citadel.

An ear piercing roar sounded from below and off into the distance and Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Is he okay?” Garyn asked, his young face crumpled with worry.

 

“He’s fine, stop your fretting, sweetness. People have probably tried to approach him and he’s just showing off for them, warning them not to come any closer.”  

 

“I’d be surprised if anyone had approached Balerion, Mother.” Helaena said.

 

“You’d be surprised, Helaena, at how much force curiosity has.” Willas told his wife.

 

“He’s right.” Harry said. “We see it all the time, particularly at Kings Landing. They sort of hover or linger around, even knowing that it’s dangerous, they do it anyway and that’s normal curiosity. If they approach him however, then that’s just plain stupidity. There is a difference.”

 

“Can I see Balerion?” Garyn asked.

 

“If your Mother and Father allow it.” Harry said.

 

“You’re the King!” Garyn said, aghast.

 

“And in this I will not overrule your parents, my own daughter and good-son.” Harry said sternly. “You do as they say, against the King or not.”

 

Helaena laughed lightly. “I don’t see any problem in it. Willas, what do you think, darling?”

 

Willas looked at his young, earnest son, who was all but pleading with him silently, with a smile that lit up those brown eyes.

 

“I’m not sure.” He played slowly.

 

“Please, Father!” Garyn begged. “Please! I’ll be with Grandmother, he won’t let me be harmed!”

 

“Oh, go on then.” Willas chuckled. Garyn cheered and took Harry’s hand and tried to pull him down to the streets and back out to Balerion.

 

Harry pulled him back and lifted the boy into his arms.

 

“Not so fast, I haven’t finished my wine.” He teased.

 

“Don’t tease him so, Mother!” Helaena chastised, even as her husband and good-brothers laughed at his trick.

 

“Come on then. Let us go and pay a visit to the Moving Mountain.”

 

Harry led the procession down to Balerion with an excited Garyn on his hand. He had been correct, people were indeed peeking out of the city gates and staring at Balerion as he slept on the grounds just outside of Highgarden. A group of children were throwing stones at him.

 

“What would you do if he turned and ate you?” He demanded as he came up behind the boys, they turned quickly and then paled as they took in the red, three headed dragon on his black doublet, and the Lord and Lady of Highgarden stood just behind him.

 

“He…he wouldn’t, m’lord.”

 

“That is Your Grace.” Loras said to the boys sternly. “This is King Haradarian that you are addressing and his dragon that you are abusing.”

 

“Balerion is rather patient.” Harry said. “But if you throw stones at any animal, or a person for that matter, eventually they’re going to turn on you. If one of those stones hit Balerion where he’d actually feel it, his eye for example, he would be up and on you before you could even turn around. He would have eaten you whole. Do not throw stones at him, or any dragon you come across.”

 

“Ye…yes, Your Grace.” The young boy swallowed and Harry shooed him and his little friends off.

 

Harry moved over to Balerion and he held Garyn’s hand tightly as the boy tried to run off towards him. Smallfolk watched from little hide holes as Harry nudged Balerion and cooed to him. The huge, jet black dragon with red accents woke up with a lazy yawn and he opened red eyes to peer at them. He grunted when he caught sight of Helaena and he nudged her insistently, purring.

 

“Mother, he likes you!” Garyn said in wonder.

 

“Of course, your Mother grew up with Balerion.” Harry said with a smile. “She was nearly two when Balerion and his brothers were hatched.”

 

“Mother is _older_ than the dragons.”

 

“Than all of them, yes.” Harry replied. “Come here.”

 

Harry picked up Garyn and held him tight under the arms as Balerion turned to nuzzle the six year old’s belly with his massive snout and Garyn squealed and wriggled. His uncles laughed at him, but Harry kissed Garyn’s cheek and let him get used to the rather rough, forceful nuzzling of the dragons.

He showed Garyn how to scratch at the dragon’s scales and how to avoid being stepped on, before he had to cut his fleeting visit short.

 

“I’ll see you soon.” He promised as he kissed his daughter, hugged his good-son and did both to his grandson.

 

“Drop back in after you’ve been to Kings Landing and Harrenhal.” Helaena insisted. “Let me know if you’ve found Aelyx. Say hello to Aunt Daenerys for me.”

 

“Of course.” Harry said as he mounted Balerion, holding the red horns tightly.

 

He indicated for Balerion to go up and his biggest boy took several running steps before spreading his wings and taking off. Kings Landing was closer than Harrenhal, so he set a course there first. He would look in on his small council, make sure that things were running smoothly, and of course he’d check to see if the missing Aelyx was there first, before he went over to visit Daenerys and his friends, the Whents, at Harrenhal.

 

“Can you smell Aelyx, Balerion?” He shouted as loudly as he could over the rushing wind.

 

He could hear that Balerion took in an extra deep breath, but Balerion showed no reaction. He couldn’t smell his brother.

Harry was stiff and sore when he dismounted at Kings Landing, Balerion going right through the open roof into the rebuilt Dragonpit on the top of Rhaenys’ Hill.

He checked through the entire Dragonpit, but he found nothing, not a single sign that any dragon had been in here since Harry and Rhaegar had gone south to Summerhall three turns before. He sighed worriedly.

 

“Take a rest, Balerion.” He said gently. “I won’t be long.”

 

 He walked stiffly from Rhaenys’ Hill to Aegon’s, where the Red Keep was situated, working out the kinks and aches in his muscles as he did so. He hated riding bare without a saddle, his legs felt like water and his back was aching with a persistent, painful throb with every footfall.

 

“Your Grace, what are you doing back so soon?”

 

Of course Lord Jon Connington would have come to greet him as soon as Balerion’s considerable shadow had passed over Kings Landing. He had likely been hoping that it was Rhaegar who had come…Harry more often rode on Daegon or Xeraxys after all. Balerion was usually Rhaegar’s chosen mount.

 

“Have any dragons passed this way?” He asked urgently, in a whisper.

 

“I…no.” Jon said, blinking in surprise. “Of course not. What has happened?”

 

“Our Aelyx has gone missing. We had hoped that he might have come here, or that he’s gone to Harrenhal. He wasn’t at Highgarden.”

 

“How do you lose a dragon?” Jon demanded of him.

 

Harry shot him a look that that out of turn comment deserved. “He has been missing for four days now and Rhaegar and I are worried. We’ve decided to come looking for him, but we believe that the Maesters are involved and that they have found a way to imprison Aelyx and have him at the Citadel.”

 

“How?”

 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know, but if that’s what has actually happened, then I’ll find out and I’ll kill all of those involved.”

 

“You can’t kill all the Maesters.”

 

“If all of the Maesters are involved, all of them will be executed.” Harry said firmly, stubbornly.

 

“Rhaegar…”

 

“Is angrier than I am.” Harry snapped. “Do not try to tell me that you know what my _husband_ wants better than I do.”

 

“Your Grace.”

 

“Ser Barristan, you are supposed to be taking a rest.” Harry said sternly, but with no heat as he smiled, genuinely happy to see the man, who was back to wearing his white scale armour and the pure white cloak of his sworn brotherhood.

 

“I can rest when I am dead, Your Grace.” Barristan said easily. “I am the Lord Commander, it is only right that I am here first to plan your escort home.”

 

“Aelyx has gone missing, Ser. Rhaegar and I suspect the Maesters of Oldtown, but we have no proof. We are looking for him currently. I’ve checked Highgarden, he’s not here. If he’s not at Harrenhal, we’ll have no other choice but to assume that the Maesters of the Citadel has taken him. Willas has already sworn that he will send the might of the Reach to the Citadel to find Aelyx, he’s right, they can’t hide him easily. Aelyx isn’t the size of Balerion, but he’s still a large eight-and-ten year old dragon. He’s not going to fit in most normal buildings.”

 

“It would be more proper to have Willas invade Oldtown.” Jon said diplomatically. “It is a part of the Reach, and thus it falls into Willas’ Kingdom. If he were to search for Aelyx it would not be so invasive than if you or Rhaegar flew there and did it yourselves.”

 

Harry nodded. “I would have done so if needed. I will not abandon one of my babes to his fate at the hands of those cruel Maesters. They could be doing the Seven knows what to him, they could have already hurt him and I won’t stand for it.”

 

“How would they have even captured him?” Barristan asked as they made it through to the small council room.

 

Harry sat at the head of the table and he shook his head.

 

“I don’t know and that terrifies me. Aelyx is one of our most distrustful of dragons. He would not have wandered off and he usually takes flight as soon as anyone unknown approaches him, or even if he just doesn’t feel like company. I don’t know how they’ve gotten him or how they’re keeping him, but I will get my babe back.”

 

“Speaking of babes, I refused another suitor for Naerys while you were away, this one from Tyrosh. I hope I did not overstep.” Jon said.

 

Harry growled, getting more like a dragon with each passing year. “Why can’t these vile men understand that she is not yet flowered?” He demanded angrily. “When she is ready, then we will put out word _ourselves_ for any suitors for her to come forward! I’ve had enough of them asking for her to be married off when she is but a girl! She has more care for her hair than for a husband at the moment, she is too fucking young!”

 

He thumped his fist into the table top and tried not to grind his teeth.

 

“No, I’ve had enough of this now. I want a list made up of all those who have asked for Naerys’ hand before we have officially announced our intentions of looking for a suitor for her.” He said suddenly.

 

“Your Grace?” Jon questioned the strange order.

 

“I want every single one of them noted down, all of them, Jon. I will then show the list to Naerys and explain to her that these men had tried to steal her childhood from her.”

 

“You would turn her away from her potential suitors.” Jon said, suddenly understanding.

 

“No, but I would have her understand that such a man would not make a good husband.” He said seriously. “If she still chooses one of them, that is then her decision, but if I can turn her away from them before she makes a mistake, I will do so.” 

 

He took a deep breath and got himself back on track. Naerys wasn’t going anywhere until she was a flowered woman of at least sixteen or seventeen, of which she wasn’t yet. He had more important, pressing matters to attend to first.

 

“I am going to fly to Harrenhal.” He said. “Aelyx is not here. I need to make sure that he is not at Harrenhal before sending word to Willas to invade Oldtown.”

 

“It is getting dark, Your Grace.” Barristan said worriedly and Harry could see how unhappy he was with his plan.

 

Harry shook his head. “I’m not leaving Aelyx to suffer, Ser.” He said softly. “He is my own babe. Thinking of him in pain hurts and angers me. Just the thought of him being hurt or scared is enough to make me want to tear apart the entire Seven Kingdoms to find him. The sooner I fly to Harrenhal, the sooner I’ll know to speak to Willas about sending in his men to search the Citadel. If they think that they’ll get away with this…” He trailed off, breathing heavily.

 

The Maesters were trying to think of themselves as something that they were not, and he was going to put them right back into their place, just as he and Rhaegar had done with the Faith of the Seven when the newly raised High Septon had opposed their marriage, their ruling, their children and their dragons several years before, after the old High Septon had died. He hadn’t been quite so vocal once he’d had his head stuck in Balerion’s mouth and Kingsfire pressed to his fat belly. After that incident he had not said a word against them, too frightened of the threat to roast him alive in dragonfire and then feed him to the starving homeless down in Flea Bottom, who had no care for where their meat came from as long as they ate something to fill their empty bellies.

 

“Your Grace! I had heard that you were back, are you well?” Grand Maester Gormon hurried in. “Is it another babe?”

 

Harry smiled despite himself. “No. Rhaegar and I are done with babes now. We’re going to enjoy our grandchildren from here on in. No, Aelyx has been missing for four days. We suspect that he’s been imprisoned and we want him back safely. I want to call a small council meeting, Willas is going to send his men to Oldtown to search for Aelyx, but I would feel better if it was debated about beforehand. I always think better when debating and I need to see from all sides. I need to fly to Harrenhal first though, just in case Aelyx went to visit Daenerys and Vhaerys. I don’t believe that he has, as we’ve had no word from Dany that he’s turned up there, but just in case, I need to check.”

 

“Would he have gone to Dragonstone?” Jon asked.

 

Harry shook his head. “You would have heard him calling. He’s a quiet dragon but no dragon will stay silent for three consecutive days.”

 

As if to prove his point they heard a screeching roar echo from the other end of Kings Landing as Balerion made himself at home. He disliked being stuck in the Dragonpit, but at least it was open to the sky now and not covered with a domed roof as it had been before, but Harry had told him to stay, so he would stay unless he felt threatened. Then Harry would fully expect him to take flight and defend himself. He had taught all of his dragons this, which is why he was so stunned, and terrified, that Aelyx was missing and presumed captured.

Balerion roared again and Harry cocked his head in confusion, listening to his noises, trying to discern if he was distressed or just unsettled in the Dragonpit. A third roar and Harry knew that something was wrong and he panicked. Balerion was noisy, he was always roaring and screeching and grunting to assert dominance over his brothers, or to scare people away from him, but no one should be anywhere near the Dragonpit, Rhaenys’ Hill was a restricted area.

He leapt up from his seat and he started running as fast as he could, pushing his sore, tired body hard. He took half the time to get back to the Dragonpit on Rhaenys’ Hill than he had taken to get to the Red Keep and in that time Balerion had roared and screeched several more times. Each time Harry had forced himself to run even faster.

Harry entered the Dragonpit to see, at a quick, rough count, two dozen men surrounding Balerion and he curled his hands into tight fists.

 

“What in the Seven hells do you think that you are doing?!” He demanded furiously. “This is a restricted area for all but the royal family.”

 

The men spun to the side, to look at him after his angry outburst, but unwilling to turn their back on Balerion. The one man who spun fully to face Harry, foolishly forgetting that it would mean putting an enraged dragon at his back, lost his life when Balerion singled him out immediately and had bitten him in half before Harry could tell him not to.

 

“Those beasts have terrorised us for the last time!” One man yelled, all but shitting himself as he stared in a horrified fascination at his friend’s bloodied lower legs lying forlornly on the stone floor, all that now remained of him.

 

“Terrorised you? How have they done as such?!” He demanded. “They have attacked no one without provocation, they have stolen no livestock, they have damaged nothing. How are they terrorising anyone?”

 

“I believe that he means the very threat of them is terrorising, Your Grace.” Jon said. He had kept himself in good shape over the years and he had followed easily when Harry had taken off running towards the Dragonpit, and despite being an old man, so too had Barristan Selmy, who’s sword was out, ready to defend his King.

 

“Have you known about this unrest?” He demanded of his and Rhaegar’s Hand.

 

“There has always been talk, as you well know.” Jon told him. “But I had not heard about any suicide ventures to assault the Dragonpit.”

 

“It was a success the last time!” One of the other men shouted. “When the Dragonpit was ruined and those dragons inside killed!”

 

Harry scoffed. “The Dragonpit was assaulted by _thousands_ of smallfolk at that time, and a great many of them lost their lives in the attempt. I count you at a little under two dozen. You are lucky that I came when I did, Balerion would have killed you all and we would have found nothing left of you but red smears on the stone.”

 

“Shall I arrest them, your Grace?” Jon asked, indicating the dozen gold cloaks that had followed their flight through Kings Landing from Aegon’s Hill to Rhaenys’.

 

“I believe that that would be a kindness to them, yes.” Harry said, his heart now calming. “I want all of them questioned under any means that Ser Ardwell deems necessary. I will have from their mouths the name of where this unrest has started. I do not believe that a dozen smallfolk thought to assault the Dragonpit off of their own backs and with Aelyx missing, perhaps their knowledge could help us understand just what has happened to him and how he has gone missing, but mostly importantly at this moment, perhaps they know of where he is being kept so that Rhaegar and I can find him.”

 

“Your Grace.” Jon bowed his head and then he oversaw the near two dozen men being arrested, those resisting were disarmed or injured before they were taken, but one tried to go straight after Balerion.

 

“ _Sōvēs_!” Harry roared out over the sounds of metal on metal and of men shouting.

 

Balerion immediately took flight from a standstill, hovering several feet from the ground first, before he got enough movement in his massive wings to soar out of the opened top of the Dragonpit and away over to the Red Keep. He would perch on top of the Red Keep and wait for him there.

Harry’s heart lightened at seeing his babe get away before he was harmed and he turned furious eyes onto the man who had gone after Balerion.

 

“What had you hoped to achieve?” He demanded. “Balerion would have crushed you underfoot or eaten you whole like your comrade. You couldn’t have injured him or even scratched him.”

 

“Your Grace!”

 

Harry turned at the urgent call and he swallowed as he saw the small jar being held up, a green liquid inside it. Wildfire. He turned back to the man behind him, being held by two gold cloaks and he took several steps forward and he punched him square in the face, feeling the nose break under his knuckles.

 

“How _dare_ you!” He hissed.

 

The man spat blood at him and Harry stepped back in disgust.

 

“They’re traitors.” He said. “They are to be treated as such and they will be tortured for all information, for every scrap of it, and then they will be executed, their heads decorating Traitor’s Walk.”

 

“I will be sure to tell Lord Ardwell to ask about Aelyx.”

 

Harry nodded. “Please do. If I can find Aelyx, and this seems related, I want it done sooner. The wildfire could only have come from the Alchemists’ Guild, which means the Maesters are involved.”

 

Jon nodded. “Away with them. To the Great Hall, call for Lord Celtigar and his gaolers’. We will do this now.”

 

“I’m going to Harrenhal, at the least Daenerys needs to be warned so that she can protect Vhaerys.” Harry said as he strode out of the Dragonpit and back towards Aegon’s Hill.

 

He could see Balerion perched on the top of the Red Keep like a massive dark shape against the setting sun. It was already going to be fully dark before he arrived at Harrenhal and Dany was pregnant too. He sighed and cursed the vile people trying to harm his babes.

He was sore, aching and tired, but there was little that he could do about it. He had to reach Harrenhal before Vhaerys was targeted. It seemed that these people, whomever they were, they were going after isolated dragons. First Aelyx as he flew off solo, likely while he was hunting or drinking, then Balerion as he landed in the Dragonpit by himself. It was rational to think that Vhaerys, alone at Harrenhal, would be a very large target, especially as Viserion was currently at Summerhall with Viserys while he and his wife, Arianne, stayed with them while they rested away from the Capital. Though as the Prince of Dragonstone, Viserys stayed on the island more often than not and it was a lot easier to protect Viserion on Dragonstone than it was on the mainland, Viserion probably wasn’t a high target. Those most at risk were Vhaerys and the two dragons that Harry and Rhaegar always kept in the new built Dragonpit, as they were the most isolated.

He lengthened his stride and he made it back to the Red Keep. He called Balerion down from the tower that he had perched on, down into the large courtyard and he mounted him quickly.

 

“I will be back soon.” He said tiredly. “Likely near dawn. I want answers from them by that time. I will fly Ser Oswell back. Ser Barristan, I need the Kingsguard summoned. I am loathe to cut their promised rest short, but we may have need of them if our family is being attacked and I fear now after this that we are under attack.”

 

“We have lazed about enough.” Barristan insisted. “Where do you need us?”

 

“Call them here, to Kings Landing, except for Lewyn and Arthur, they’ll be better off going to Summerhall and getting Baelon to fly them to Kings Landing.” He said. “I’ll come back here from Harrenhal and then I need to go back to Highgarden and then to Summerhall. I will be as quick as I can.”

 

Harry took Balerion through several movements, before he took off and he flew over to Harrenhal. It took him a shorter amount of time than it did to fly from Highgarden to Kings Landing, but it was still fully dark when he arrived and Balerion announced them, when he caught the scent of Vhaerys and let out a screeching roar, that Vhaerys then answered. They could have woken those back in Kings Landing with their noise.

Harry landed with another ground trembling shake and he dismounted and then he went right to his knees with his muscles trembling. Balerion nudged him in concern and Harry scratched at him soothingly.

 

“I’m alright, Balerion, but I have never wished more in my life that you would agree to be saddled like your brothers.”

 

“Your Grace!”

 

Harry could have laughed as Ser Oswell Whent had come running in his sleeping tunic, his white hilted sword already unsheathed in his hand. Ser Oswell had known immediately that another dragon at Harrenhal had meant an additional member of the royal family. It was usually Viserys come to visit his sister if he got tired of Dragonstone, but today it was him and at this time of night, any visit was an urgent one, Ser Oswell likely believed him to be injured or that he had been set upon or attacked or some such, especially hurrying towards him and noticing that he was slumped on his knees. Harry immediately put him from his panic with a softly waved hand to indicate that he was fine.

 

“Where is the dragon vault? Get Vhaerys out.” He ordered as he climbed shakily to his feet and looked around suspiciously.

 

“Your Grace?”

 

“Now, Ser!” He ordered sternly. “Aelyx has gone missing and Balerion was attacked in the Dragonpit. Vhaerys might be next, he can’t be enclosed. Balerion, up to the tower. _Hep_. _Hep_.” He ordered and he watched as Balerion the Moving Mountain cocked his head and then followed to where Harry was pointing. He took off and Harry waited to see him up on the tallest tower safely before he hurried through the grounds of Harrenhal to find the newly built dragon vault that Lord Walter Whent had had commissioned for his good-granddaughter when she had married his grandson, Ser Oslyn, and had brought Vhaerys to Harrenhal with her.

He opened the heavy iron doors with the help of Ser Oswell and he released Vhaerys quickly, ordering him up to the towers with Balerion before he went to find his baby sister, the one whom he had nursed and raised as a daughter, and her married family.

 

“Your Grace, what has happened?” Lord Walter Whent asked him urgently, looking at his curled up form from his sore muscles and his tired, drawn face.

 

Daenerys waddled towards him as fast as she could, rounded with her first babe, her hair still tangled with sleep and she came right to him. Harry held her tightly, kissing her smooth, pale forehead.

 

“Haradarian, what is it, why did you release Vhaerys?”

 

“Aelyx has gone missing, Dany, and Balerion was attacked in the Dragonpit. There are people singling out the dragons and attacking them. The dragon vault is too exposed, Vhaerys would be trapped inside if he was attacked too.”

 

“Aelyx is missing?” Dany asked, shocked.

 

Harry nodded. “I’ve been flying everywhere to try and find him, but he’s not at Highgarden or Kings Landing and he’s not here. I think he’s been taken by the Citadel.”

 

“You have to get him back.” Daenerys told him urgently.

 

“I’m going to, but you need to keep Vhaerys safe.”

 

“He can’t sleep on the towers.” Dany fretted.

 

“He needs to be guarded, Dany. Until this threat has passed, he needs to be guarded as he sleeps. I have already imprisoned those who attacked Balerion and Lord Celtigar is currently extracting answers from them, I am hoping that they’ll spill all about who is behind these attacks.”

 

“What were they thinking attacking the Moving Mountain?”

 

“There weren’t even two dozen of them. I believe that whoever ordered them to storm the Dragonpit to kill Balerion was just sending them to their deaths. It would reflect terribly upon us and the dragons if two dozen men were killed by Balerion. They’re trying to create a reason to keep Aelyx imprisoned. A reason to try and insist that all twelve of them are imprisoned, not to mention the five eggs.”

 

“How are the eggs?” Daenerys asked.

 

“Still intact. They’re very warm now, we think they might hatch soon. Which is why I can’t allow this threat to continue. Those hatchlings are going to be small and weak, easily picked up and carried away, especially if they can take Aelyx.”

 

“How did they even take a dragon?” Ser Oswell asked.

 

Harry shook his head. “Something that I’m determined to find out. Dany, I need to go back to Kings Landing now, then to Highgarden and then to Summerhall, you need to keep Vhaerys safe.”

 

“Take him with you.” She told him firmly. “He is going to be safest with his brothers.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be left without him.”

 

“I want him to be safe more than I want him here with me. If it is not safe for him here, take him back to Summerhall.” Daenerys said firmly.

 

“Is there a threat to Daenerys also?” Ser Oslyn demanded, his arm protectively around his incredibly beautiful, heavily pregnant wife.

 

Harry sighed. “A threat to the dragons is a threat to our whole family.” He said. “As soon as the dragons are taken from us or killed, they’ll come for us afterwards, like first taking a shield from a man in battle. Daenerys is one of the most exposed and currently the most vulnerable as she’s pregnant. Keep her close, Ser.”

 

Ser Oslyn’s face hardened and his muscled arms held Dany closer and he laid a kiss to her shining, silver hair, one hand pressing against her pregnant belly where his babe grew.

 

“I’ll keep her safe, I swear it.”

 

“Good, I won’t have my sister-daughter harmed or put in any danger.”

 

Dany chuckled at that and she broke free from her husband to hug him tightly, kissing his cheek.

 

“You need to rest, Mother.” She admonished him. “When did you last sleep?”

 

Harry shook his head. “There’s no time. Rhaegar and I are so worried for Aelyx, we want him back. Ser, you need to dress.” He directed at Ser Oswell, who looked at his sleeping tunic and then nodded, hurrying off to get himself dressed in the white armour and cloak that he hadn’t worn for the last three turns.

 

“You are going to be no use if you don’t rest.” Dany told him sternly.

 

He nodded his agreement. “It doesn’t help that Aenar has broken his arm either. We can’t leave his care to Rhaegon, he would put him into a deep, unending sleep with an overdose of the milk of the poppy.”

 

“He climbed the peach tree, didn’t he?”

 

Harry snorted. “Of course he did. I thought that he’d died when I saw him sprawled, unconscious at its base.”

 

“You could always take Rhaegon to the Citadel with you.” Dany said. “He is five-and-twenty, he has every right to go with you to free Aelyx. Baelon, Aenys and Aerin too. Leave Valarr to look after the dragons at Summerhall and to look after Aenar. That way you won’t be alone.”

 

Harry immediately went to protest.

 

“Mother, they are old enough.” Dany told him, a determined, almost fierce look in her beautiful purple eyes. “Let them be men. They are no longer boys in need of your loving hand, they are grown men capable of looking after themselves. Truly so is Valarr and Maelor, though Maelor only just and Valarr is soft. You cannot hold them back any longer, Mother.”

 

He sighed. “You have become a stubborn, formidable woman, Daenerys. I’m proud of you.”

 

“Your Grace, I’m ready.” Ser Oswell said, coming back to where they were loitering in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.

 

“Come on then, we need to get back to Kings Landing and see if any of those fools have talked about the attack on the Dragonpit or about the whereabouts of Aelyx.”

 

Harry hugged Dany goodbye and he left her in the care of her doting, protective husband. She had truly chosen well for herself with Ser Oslyn. He was completely smitten with her, but also protective and loving too. He adored the very ground that she walked on and Harry was sure that, behind closed doors, that Daenerys was truly the force behind their marriage. Oslyn did anything and everything that she asked of him, as he should do.

Harry called both dragons down from the towers and he spoke to the both of them in short bursts of High Valyrian. He mounted Balerion and Ser Oswell mounted the purple and silver Vhaerys, who baulked at having a rider who was not his beloved Daenerys, but she calmed him herself and instructed him to bear his rider and he did eventually settle and accept Ser Oswell, but he made his displeasure known. Ser Oswell was not going to have a smooth or easy flight.

Harry led the way and he kept calling out to Vhaerys, to lead him to where there were going in the pitch black of night. He had already told Ser Oswell that they were heading straight to the Red Keep. They were not leaving the dragons in the Dragonpit, he wouldn’t risk that there were more people involved in the plot to attack the dragons.

Landing in the courtyard before Maegor’s Holdfast, Harry dismounted on quivering legs and he knew that he would have to rest, even just for an hour before he rode to Highgarden. He sent Balerion and Vhaerys up to the towers with an encouraged order in High Valyrian of ‘ _hep_ ’ and he ordered the gold cloaks nearby to seal the bronze gates to the Red Keep and dismiss themselves, away from the dragons.

He went to the Great Hall, where the smell of blood and piss was thick. His entire small council was present and there was already a pile of bodies on the floor, but those still to be questioned were crying and pleading for mercy, even as another of their number was being attended to by Lord Ardwell Celtigar, his Master of Laws. 

 

“Your Grace.” Ser Barristan greeted him, immediately standing and coming to mirror Ser Oswell. “The ravens are already flying. The rest of your Kingsguard should be here as soon as they can manage.”

 

“Good. Have any of these filth talked?”

 

“It was as you feared, Your Grace.” Jon told him. “The Maesters at the Citadel ordered the wildfire to be given to these men, who have been charged with killing any dragon in the Dragonpit. There are others in Kings Landing and we are attempting to get all of their names. It is the Maesters who have also taken Aelyx and are keeping him at the Citadel.”

 

Harry swallowed. “I had wondered.” He said softly.

 

“There are also more men on the way to Harrenhal to kill Vhaerys.” Barristan told him.

 

“They will have a wasted journey, I brought Vhaerys back with me.” Harry said. “He’s on the towers of the Red Keep with Balerion. I’m taking them all to Summerhall and putting them under Valarr’s protection.”

 

“Prince Valarr’s protection?” Jon queried. 

 

“Rhaegon, Baelon, Aenys and Aerin are grown men. They will be coming with Rhaegar, Viserys and I to free Aelyx at the Citadel. Valarr will be staying at Summerhall to protect his younger brothers and his sisters, and the remaining dragons.”

 

“Is it wise to take the crown Prince?” Lord Lucerys Velaryon, his Master of Ships, asked worriedly.

 

“Rhaegon is a man of five-and-twenty. We cannot take his three younger brothers and leave him behind. If all seven of us are to die, the crown will rightfully pass to Valarr as our next oldest child.”

 

“You would miss out Princess Helaena’s son? Prince Baelon’s son? Prince Aenys’ son?”

 

“Garyn is a boy of six. Aedus is newly born only just getting his first tooth and Gwynys has yet to celebrate his first name day.” Harry said impatiently. “The crown will pass to Valarr, he is a man of nine-and-ten. He is able and of an age to rule.”

 

Harry knew exactly why these men would prefer Garyn, a boy of six, over his Valarr. Their fifth son was very soft and he disliked confrontation and much preferred reading and studying. But those around them forgot that Rhaegar had once been exactly the same, and likely would have remained the same if he had not found the prophecy from old Valyria. They forgot that Harry was a very learned and intelligent man, with his chain of many metals hanging around his throat. Valarr would make a good King if given the chance, like Harry himself he could strategise on the edge of a blade and make the decisions that needed to be made. Just because he disliked warfare did not mean that he wouldn’t do what was needed to be done if such a situation arose, it just meant that he would take no pleasure in it and Harry was proud of his son for such. He ignored the slight, for that was what it was, and he instead sat himself down and called for wine and refreshments.

He wasn’t one to eat and drink while men were being tortured and killed before him, but his travelling today had left him parched and sore and aching. He once again cursed that Balerion wouldn’t wear a riding saddle. He would leave the Moving Mountain for Rhaegar to ride to the Citadel. He would take his preferred mount, Daegon, who would be saddled and would allow for him to sit down if needed. After riding Balerion up and down the Seven Kingdoms all day and night, it _would_ be needed.

He drank a cup of wine and then poured himself another from the silver jug that had been left on the tray beside him. A small meal had been brought up for him and he picked at it, even as Lord Ardwell and his gaolers turned back to their duty. Harry disliked it, but he hadn’t eaten all day and he needed to take a rest before he made himself sick. He couldn’t fall sick now, not when he needed to get his Aelyx back from the Maesters who had taken him and were keeping him imprisoned in the Citadel.

 

“I sent a raven on ahead to Highgarden. You can go straight to Summerhall, if it pleases you, Your Grace.” Jon told him and Harry nodded gratefully.

 

“Thank you.” He said over the screams as another man had his fingers removed. “That the Citadel are involved once more in trying to destroy the dragons. Rhaegar’s anger is going to be a terrible thing to behold. I do not believe that I have the capabilities of holding him back, not when it comes to a threat against our children.”

 

He sighed again and picked up a chunk of chicken to eat, washed down with more wine. His shaking had lessened some at least, he was just very tired now, but he was not going to sleep…not while the Maesters still had his Aelyx and were trying to kill his dragon babes and then perhaps even his human babes, before they would try to take out his brother and sister and his husband, his beautiful Rhaegar. This had to be stopped, now, before any more of his family were attacked, hurt or imprisoned like Aelyx. He would not allow for this to continue.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

He arrived back to Summerhall in the late morning and Rhaegar was waiting for him in the dragon caves. He was visibly surprised to see Vhaerys with him. When the two dragons had been seen on the horizon, he had furtively hoped that Aelyx had been found and was being brought home.

 

“Tell me everything.” He said, knowing for definite now that something was very wrong.

 

“Come with me.” Harry said, taking the hand of his husband. “Are the children up, how is Aenar?”

 

“He’s been miserable. I did as you instructed and gave him more milk of the poppy before he went to bed, but he still crawled into our bed near dawn. I didn’t know if I had to give him any more milk of the poppy, so I settled him down and played my harp until he fell asleep again, but he’s in pain. He was even grimacing in his sleep. He has been pleading for you since dawn.”

 

The two of them made it up to the main solar and Harry was immediately swarmed by his younger children happy to see him. He smiled and kissed all of their upturned faces gently.

 

“Mother, please can I have more milk of the poppy?” Aenar begged him, his young face pinched and pale with pain.

 

“Yes, love. Sit yourself down.”

 

Harry took a spoon from the table and the small bottle that Rhaegar handed to him and he measured out half a spoon of the painkiller and he held it out steadily for Aenar, who took it with his mouth immediately, with no complaints forthcoming about the horrible, bitter taste.

Harry sat next to his young son and his youngest, Aenar’s twin, Aeron, cuddled in on his other side.

 

“Why has Dany given up Vhaerys? What has happened?” Viserys asked, having obviously seen the two dragons on the horizon from the garden or perhaps a balcony, and not just the expected Balerion.

 

“Things are much worse than we’d feared.” Harry said, looking at Rhaegar, but speaking to them all. “I arrived back at Kings Landing and...and as I went to call a small council meeting, Balerion was attacked in the Dragonpit.”

 

“He’s unhurt though, isn’t he?” Maelor demanded.

 

Harry snorted. “Of course he is. He’s not called the Moving Mountain for show, Maelor. I heard him calling and I hurried back to him, he was being set upon by twenty men. They had wildfire on them.”

 

“Was there also a threat to Vhaerys?” Rhaegar asked, his face tight, his jaw clenched in anger.

 

“I didn’t know as such when I flew to Harrenhal, but Daenerys wanted him safe more than she wanted to keep him isolated with her. She told me to bring him back and to keep him with his brothers, she’s completely correct they’re much safer in numbers. So I flew him back to Kings Landing, where I’d left Jon to gather information from those arrested in the Dragonpit, and it was there that I found out that there was a force heading to Harrenhal to ‘deal’ with Vhaerys. They’re targeting any isolated dragon. Aelyx likely went out hunting on his own, we only ever have two or three dragons at Kings Landing at any one time and Vhaerys is all on his own at Harrenhal. They were taking out as many as they could beforehand.”

 

“Who would try to attack a _dragon_ , Mother?” Naerys asked, her brush stilling in her small hand, even as she paused in mid motion to listen to him.

 

“The Maesters of the Citadel.” Harry said with a pointed look to Rhaegar, whose large hands clenched into fists. “Willas has already sent a force of men to the Citadel. The small council agrees with this action, that it’ll look better if Willas deals with matters of his own realm first, before we get involved. I don’t like it as it’s our Aelyx that they have imprisoned, but it gives me more time to strategise. Once Willas confirms that Aelyx is at the Citadel, me, you, Viserys, Rhaegon, Baelon, Aenys and Aerin can go in and get him back. Then I want this matter put to rest. I won’t have them threatened further.”

 

“You want us to go with you?” Aenys asked, looking shocked.

 

“You are men grown, all of you above twenty. You will come with your Father, Uncle, and I to free Aelyx and deal out justice to those whom have dared hurt him and sent out orders for Vhaerys to be attacked in the dragon vault at Harrenhal and for any dragon that is in the Dragonpit at Kings Landing to be slain. Those who have plotted and schemed will not get away with this.”

 

“Will…will I look after…?” Valarr asked, looking as shocked as Aenys.

 

“You will be the acting Prince of Summerhall in your brother, Baelon’s, absence. You will look after your sisters and your younger brothers and the remaining dragons while we are away. If all seven of us are killed, you will take the crown for yourself, Valarr. You will be King. I have left such instruction with the small council and the Kingsguard.”

 

“I…I can’t be king!” Valarr said, his face going pale.

 

“You are our next oldest son, Valarr.” Rhaegar told him. “Our oldest grandchild is Garyn and he’s only six, your nephews are all much too young to rule. You need to step into your place if it is needed.”

 

“We have no plans on dying, however.” Harry said kindly. “You’d do just fine, Valarr, I know you would.”

 

“Of course you would.” Rhaegon said to his brother firmly. “I said that when I’m King it will be you who I choose as a Hand.”

 

“I don’t want to be either!” Valarr insisted fervently.

 

“Now is not the time to argue about it.” Viserys snapped. “Those Maesters have Aelyx and they tried to kill Vhaerys and Balerion! Viserion could have been in danger also!”

 

Harry inclined his head, but tried to sooth his brother as well. “One good thing is in your favour, Viserys, and for Viserion too. You live on Dragonstone with Viserion. It would be very difficult for any outsiders to get onto the island and attack him. He has the run of Dragonstone, does he not?”

 

Viserys calmed at hearing that and he nodded. “Yes. He sleeps in the open on the Dragonmont, just above the castle. No one can reach him up there.”

 

Harry nodded with a smile. “Viserion was likely the most protected of the isolated few, Viserys. If any were to have perished, it would have been Vhaerys. The dragon vault is on the ground, two men can open the doors and if they bar the exit with fire or spears, then Vhaerys would have been trapped inside and with wildfire, he would have been burnt to death.”

 

“Have you mobilised the Kingsguard?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

Harry chuckled then. “Ser Barristan was already back at Kings Landing. He said that he’d had enough rest and he’d come back early to await our own rest to be over. He told me that he’d personally summon his sworn brothers back to Kings Landing, that they could rest when they were dead. Though I brought Ser Oswell back personally from Harrenhal and it makes more sense to have Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur come here, as they would need to pass Summerhall to get back to Kings Landing anyway. At the least it will be some more protection for the children.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “We need to prepare and be ready to leave as soon as the raven from Highgarden arrives.”

 

“Boys, pick your mounts.” Harry said to his oldest four boys. “I’m riding Daegon.”

 

“I’m naturally taking Balerion.” Rhaegar said.

 

Rhaegon smiled. “Rhaelys.” He said immediately.

 

“I’d like Xeraxys.” Baelon said with growing excitement. Xeraxys only ever let Harry or Baelon ride him.

 

“Maegon!” Aerin said before his brother could and Aenys glared at him.

 

“Fine, I’ll take Aedys.”

 

“You should have chosen him outright, you always liked him best and he loves you in return.” Maelor told Aenys.

 

“Aedys was always my favourite dragon, but he’s more like a sunburst, people don’t look at him and think him intimidating.”

 

“I always thought that he looked more like a blazing inferno.” Harry said with a smile. “All orange, yellow and gold. He looks like he’s on fire, especially when the light catches him.”

 

Aenys looked a mite better at hearing that and Harry sighed, looking to his youngest children, one on either side of him. He looked more critically at his Aenar, who was drowsy with the milk of the poppy, holding Harry tightly about his middle, his broken arm resting in his lap. Harry was pleased to see that the bindings had not been played with while he’d been away.

 

“I hate standing here and not doing anything.” Viserys said angrily and his wife, Arianne, immediately moved to comfort him.

 

“It won’t be very long, Viserys.” Harry said soothingly. “As soon as Willas sends that raven, we will take flight and we’ll be at Oldtown shortly after. I expect the raven to come within the next several hours, certainly before dusk approaches.”

 

“You haven’t slept.” Rhaegar pointed out. “You’ll put yourself at risk and I won’t have it.”

 

Harry sighed. He had been wondering when Rhaegar would bring this up. He was tired, but he was also very worried and stressed.

 

“I’ll take Aenar to bed then.” He said calmly, unwilling to fight with Rhaegar at this moment. Not right before they would be flying into certain danger. “I want to know the moment that raven arrives, Rhaegar. If you even think of leaving without me you had better never come home again.”

 

“I would never do that to you.”

 

Harry nodded. “Good, because there is nowhere in the known world that you could hide from me, brother.”

 

Rhaegar snorted. “You only ever call me brother when you’re angry with me. I have not done anything wrong yet.”

 

“It was just a friendly reminder.” Harry teased. “Aeron, are you tired?”

 

His youngest child shook his head and Harry nodded, standing and kissing him. He picked up Aenar and carried the eight year old to his own bedchambers, to the bed that he shared with Rhaegar. He thought that he would never drop off to sleep, but he was asleep almost as soon as he settled down with Aenar.

Rhaegar woke him up several hours later with a smug grin on his face. Aenar was no longer in the bed with him.

 

“Go away.” Harry complained, pulling the sheet of the bed tighter under his chin.

 

“You’re beautiful when you’ve just woken up and you’re still sleepy.” Rhaegar told him.

 

Harry smiled and rolled over onto his back, stretching himself out, peering blearily up at his brother-husband.

 

“I love you more and more each day.”

 

“I love you too.” Harry murmured, still clinging to sleep.

 

“Come, I’ve had some light foods laid out for you.”

 

Harry blinked and then his mind caught up to him. “Have we heard from Highgarden?” He asked urgently, sitting up.

 

“No, not yet, but I wouldn’t imagine that it would take much longer. I wanted you to eat before we left.”

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” He asked with a knowing smile.

 

“Those boys are taking away my sanity, I need you.” Rhaegar told him, bending down to kiss him. “They’re so eager to leave, they’re pacing like caged animals and snapping at one another. They’re so anxious and wound up. Joy is in tears and she’s begging Baelon to stay, Janei has just told Rhaegon that she’s pregnant with their third child and Naerys keeps clinging to my hand or sitting in my lap. She’s gone quiet too, I don’t like it.”

 

Harry sighed and he wrapped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck. “The sooner this is all over and we have Aelyx back, the better.”

 

“If they’ve hurt him at all, their lives are forfeit!”

 

“I couldn’t agree with you more, my love. Come, I need to get into some clean clothes and have something to eat.”

 

Rhaegar watched him, forcing himself to keep his hands in his lap, as Harry stripped himself bare and then redressed. They walked hand in hand to the solar, where Rhaegar had laid out a meal for him.

 

“Mother, please don’t go!” Naerys begged as soon as he walked into the room, hurrying to him and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

 

 “Naerys, we need to go and get Aelyx back.” He explained patiently. “He is as much my child as you are and I wouldn’t leave you as a prisoner either. You need to understand that as the royal family, if we allow the Maesters to take and kill Aelyx without retaliating then we’ll be perceived as weak and we’ll be abandoned by our allies and set upon on all sides. We need to crush this unrest now, before anyone can think us weak and ripe for a takeover.”

 

“Will that really happen?” Maella asked worriedly, stopping in mid-motion the embroidery of the left sleeve of her dress.

 

“It can.” Rhaegon said, even as he cradled his sleeping youngest daughter, Rhaenys, in his large arms. “We can’t take the chance, Mae. We could lose a lot more if we don’t retaliate to this threat. At most, seven of us will die, they certainly won’t catch seven dragons at once, but Valarr will take over and he will keep you all safe here while the Kingsguard mobilise around him.”

 

“I don’t want any of you to die.” Aeron cried.

 

“It’s unlikely that all of us will die, sweet one, but it is a possibility that we reasonably have to face and prepare for.” Harry said as he sat down, moving with Naerys clinging to him.

 

“A small one.” Viserys said.

 

“But a possibility nonetheless.” Harry reminded his little brother. “We’re not going to go into this like fools. We are not going to take any risks. We will have Willas’ men with us, we’re not going to be seven against the entire of the Citadel.”

 

“They’re all old men stuck in their books!” Viserys complained.

 

“There are still men there who would die to protect the Citadel.” Harry said forcefully. “You forget that I was at the Citadel for two and a half years in my youth, I know exactly how fervent those men can be if there is any threat to the Citadel or the Maesters within.”

 

“We have dragons!”

 

“Have you forgotten that they have one too?” Rhaegar demanded. “They have somehow managed to take Aelyx and keep him imprisoned. We have no idea how they have done as such or if they could do so again, taking the dragons right from under us.”

 

“All of you, calm down.” Harry said sternly. “This is going to be dangerous enough without all of you squabbling as well.”

 

Everyone remained silent as Harry ate, his youngest daughter curled on his lap. He had forgotten to tell Rhaegar about the newest request for Naerys’ hand. He was not going to mention it here, however. Not while she was within earshot. She was a child still and he refused to worry her over such things unnecessarily. He kissed the crown of her silver hair and picked up a juicy, perfectly ripe peach and he bit into it.

 

“Please don’t get the juice in my hair, Mother.” Naerys begged.

 

“I won’t, sweetness.” He said, juice dripping from his chin and down his wrist. He made sure to keep both well away from his baby girl.

 

Rhaegar could not resist. He just couldn’t stay away. He came to sit beside him and Harry squirmed away as his husband’s tongue licked at his chin and mouth, catching the peach juice.

 

“Must you do that? It’s obscene.” Baelon complained.

 

Harry snorted and Rhaegar laughed, pulling Harry into a proper kiss.

 

“We love one another very much, Baelon.” Harry said gently. “I love him more and more as time passes and I feel no shame in showing that love to him.”

 

Rhaegar smiled happily at hearing that and he bent forward to kiss Harry again.

 

“Finish eating, you need your strength.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“Is Aunt Dany okay?” Maella asked him, even as she focused on the next part of her dress.

 

“She is fit to burst with her babe, but Ser Oslyn is very protective of her. He will keep her safe.”

 

“We’ve spread the dragonseed halfway across the Seven Kingdoms.” Rhaegar chuckled to him and Harry laughed.

 

“We have. We did very well. We’ve married to Tyrell, Lannister, Whent, Martell, Dayne, Rykker, Penrose, Allyrion and Yronwood. With potential matches with Vance through Maelor and with Lydden through Maella too.”

 

“Has Frey tried to gain control of…?” Rhaegar’s eyes flicked down to Naerys settled in Harry’s lap and Harry shook his head.

 

“He’s gone from that to asking for Aerin to pick one of his daughters or granddaughters, whomever he fancies, and she’ll be his.”  

 

Rhaegar snorted. “Frey would be better off offering his sons and grandsons to Aerin.”

 

“I thought as such, but naturally I said nothing.” Harry smiled. “I wouldn’t have any daughter of mine marry a Frey, nor would I have my sons married to one. They do not deserve the honour. I will never forgive them their cowardice and inaction when our family was threatened with extinction during the rebellion of the would be usurper. Our children will not be married to cowards and cravens.”

 

Rhaegar nodded and agreed with him. Harry finished eating, cleaning off his hands so that he could hug his daughter without her shouting at him for dirtying her sheet of wavy, silver hair, before he started running through a detailed plan of action with his two brothers and his four oldest sons.

 

“Please don’t go.” Joy begged Baelon, who looked rather annoyed at her tears and persistent pleads.

 

“He has to go, Joy.” Harry said firmly. “Stop your tears, now. He is a man grown and it is his place to come with us.”

 

“I want him to be safe.” Joy sniffled, Aedus clutched tightly in her arms.

 

“And I need my family to be safe.” Baelon replied sternly. “If I die in defence of my family, then so be it. As long as I die to keep them safe, and not in vain, I’ll be happy to do so.”

 

“It has always been the same for us.” Rhaegar said and Harry nodded his agreement.

 

“We were willing to die to protect Mother, Viserys, Daenerys and our three children when the would be usurper tried to wipe out the Targaryen name on a whim. We sent Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena over to Dragonstone with our pregnant Mother and Viserys and we fought with everything that we had to keep them safe.”

 

“I was four-and-twenty during the rebellion.” Rhaegar said. “I rode out to fight in numerous battles, I almost died upon the Trident clashing with Baratheon so that my family could be safe.”

 

“I was nine-and-ten.” Harry said softly, thinking back to the rebellion. “I was younger than all of those whom we are taking with us when I fought to defend my family. When Kings Landing was sacked and I had to fight while six turns pregnant with our Baelon and our dragons were newly hatched and barely a week old. Baelon has every single right as a man to fight to protect his family. We will not stop him, Rhaegon, Aerin or Aenys from fighting, it is their choice to make and their right to do so.”

 

Joy turned pleading eyes to Baelon then, at hearing that it was his choice, and he shook his head.

 

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m going, Joy. You will stay here with Aedus, under the protection of Valarr and I will go and fight to free Aelyx, to keep our family safe. I am not going to stay here and sit on my thumbs while my parents, Uncle and brothers fight to keep us safe. I’m going.”

 

Harry smiled on proudly as Baelon took charge of himself and his wife. He was twenty-two now and he had his own palace, he had his own son, he had the heavy responsibility of being the guardian of the majority of the dragons, who always stayed at Summerhall. He was a man and he deserved to come with them to rescue Aelyx.

 

“A raven!” Maelor called out and Harry stood, putting Naerys on her feet.

 

He strode out to the balcony, where the raven had landed on the balustrade, and he approached it gently, picking the bird up and tucking it under his arm as he pulled off the message with the other. He set the bird free and it flew off again, back to Highgarden, but all of Harry’s attention was on the small scroll of paper in his hand.

He untied the slim piece of green and gold ribbon around it and he unrolled it, reading slowly and calmly so that he missed no words.

 

“What does Willas say?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

Harry finished reading the small missive and then he dropped his arm.

 

“Aelyx is at the Citadel.” He said, his heart thundering and every muscle in his body clenching in furious anger. “Willas has sentenced those involved to death. Come, let us fly.”

 

“Did it mention the state of Aelyx?” Rhaegar asked him, his tone tight.

 

“No. They likely haven’t located him, but they can hear him calling. They can pin him down in one place, but they cannot stop him from calling. We must be quick, if they know that we are coming, they can do untold damage to him, or even execute him, we must not give them that amount of time.”

 

The seven of them made it to the dragon caves quickly and Harry located the black and gold Daegon easily. He took a specially made saddle from where it was tacked to the wall and he only had to indicate with his hand and Daegon was lying down. Harry saddled him up, making sure that the strong steel breastplate was in place and he checked that each strap was secure and then he looked around, overseeing his sons doing the same.

Rhaegar, who was going on Balerion, did not need to saddle up his own mount, as their biggest boy refused to wear one. He was going around to each dragon and checking that all of the straps and the breastplates were in place and wouldn’t slip or dig in during the flight.

 

“Are we ready?” Viserys asked from atop Viserion.

 

Harry, who had climbed into the saddle on Daegon, glad to be sat down at the base of Daegon’s neck, sat upon his shoulders, nodded himself, watching as Rhaegar had to hold himself between Balerion’s red horns, atop his large head.

The seven of them flew away from Summerhall and they headed to Oldtown and to the Citadel, where they now knew their missing boy, Aelyx, was being kept prisoner. Those Maesters would rue the day that they had ever conceived the plot against their family. He had not ruled out Lannister involvement either, the Maesters needed someone to fund them, after all. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to leave the Lannister twins, Willem and Martyn, with their family. If he found out that the Lannisters had had any involvement at all in this…well, he had given them more than enough chances over the years. If they were involved at all, including merely bankrolling the Maesters, he would wipe out Kevan and his three sons (as he would execute poor Lancel too), and Tygett and Gerion, still prisoners of Kings Landing, would be executed as well. The only Lannisters left would be women, and young Tyrion.

The flight over to Oldtown was short. Harry seriously hoped that Lord Leyton Hightower had not been involved in this, it would be devastating to execute another great house, but Willas was the Lord of all the Reach and if he chose to execute Lord Leyton, that was Willas’ right as the Kings’ Warden of the South. But one good thing fell in favour of Lord Leyton not being involved, and thus Willas not having to send orders of execution to his Mother’s Father, his own Grandfather. Lord Leyton hadn’t come down from Oldtown’s Hightower, of which they were named, for over a decade now. He stayed up in the Hightower of house Hightower and Harry hoped that that meant that he hadn’t been a part of the imprisonment of Aelyx. House Hightower had always been firm supporters of House Targaryen, and of their liege lords, the Tyrells. But they were also one of the biggest supports of the Faith of the Seven and of the Citadel.

He and Rhaegar could control the High Septon in Kings Landing with a few threats easily enough, but all the other Septons and Septas throughout the Seven Kingdoms were likely spreading discord and dissent throughout the cities and the smallfolk. This had to stop or the danger to his family would only grow and he could not, would not, risk his children.

They landed, Daegon’s feet touching down on the ground first, and his black and gold boy screamed, calling out to the brother whom he could smell.

Balerion landed with such force that Harry could feel it pass through his body. Harry slid from the back of Daegon and gathered his four sons and younger brother around him, Rhaegar coming over to join them, even as Balerion’s roar echoed around them. Everything had fallen silent, and then the screaming of the smallfolk started, likely having never seen so many dragons in one place before, but it wasn’t the smallfolk that they were here for. It was never the poor, innocent smallfolk who would always, inevitably, be caught in the crossfire of the coming fight.

Rhaegar led the six of them to the gates of Oldtown and it was clear that the guards didn’t know what to do…they couldn’t bar the royal family from entering a city that they essentially owned. Not without it being a declaration of war, so they just stood, stunned and fearful, as the seven of them strode through the gates into Oldtown. Harry led the way then, he remembered this place as well as he did Kings Landing. He had spent two and a half years here, studying, exploring, he knew these streets, and he knew exactly where he was going as he headed to the Honeywine, the large river upon which the Citadel was situated, on both sides of the river, where he had spent most of his time while here in Oldtown. The tall towers were all connected to one another via stone bridges and it truly was more like a city within a city.

The seven of them made it to the gates of the Citadel to find Garlan in command of a large force of men from the Reach.

 

“Your Graces.” Garlan said, dipping his head respectfully to Harry and Rhaegar. “We heard the dragon, Aelyx, keening as soon as we arrived, I immediately sent a raven back to Willas. We could get through into Oldtown, but the Citadel gates are barred and they will not open.”

 

Harry looked at the tall, twin green stone sphynxes that had so entranced him as a boy. They had the bodies of lions, the open, splayed wings of an eagle and the tail of serpents. The left hand sphynx had the smooth face of a woman, the right hand sphynx the face of a man.

The courtyard he was in was big enough for a dragon to land in. Just the one, but it would be enough to destroy the wooden gates.

 

“Baelon, go and get Xeraxys.” He said softly. “Take some men with you.”

 

 A score of men wearing the green and gold of Highgarden immediately listened to the order given and they strode forward to escort Baelon to get one of their smaller dragons.

Harry gave a look to Rhaegar, who nodded and he inhaled deeply. Harry couldn’t deny that his brother-husband’s voice was certainly much more impressive than his own. Rhaegar’s voice could boom, low and deep, and hopefully some of the smallfolk would hear him this way, and they would know that they had given ample chance for the gates to the Citadel to be opened.

 

“In the name of King Haradarian the Heart, the first of his name, and King Rhaegar Targaryen, the first of his name, Kings of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protectors of the Realm, open these gates and allow us entry!”

 

Rhaegar’s voice echoed it was so silent in this area of Oldtown and they stood, waiting. Rhaegar called out the same once more, at a much louder volume, before he grit his teeth in anger and looked at Harry.

 

“I’m not calling a third time, they are making a fool of me.” He insisted.

 

Harry laid a slim hand on Rhaegar’s muscular arm. “I would not have asked you to call a third time, my love. Twice is quite enough. If they didn’t open upon the first call, they were never going to, but calling for a second time gave a chance for more smallfolk to hear you calling for a peaceful end to this. Now all they will get from us is fire and blood.”

 

His twin sons were all but bouncing in their eagerness. This would be their first true battle and with Aerin wanting to be a member of the Kingsguard once a place opened up, once Rhaegon was King, this was the perfect platform for him to prove himself worthy of the high honour.

Baelon came back to them atop Xeraxys, who only ever let Harry or Baelon ride him and grew aggressive if anyone else tried to mount him, with the twenty men walking ahead of the beautiful blue, silver and gold dragon.

 

“Xeraxys, calm my sweet one.” Harry called out softly and Xeraxys settled down with a happy chirrup of a croak that made Harry smile. Xeraxys came to him and lowered his head for a scratch, right on the patch of scales that he loved being scratched. Harry all but raked his nails over those scales as a reward and his beautiful boy all but groaned in pleasure, grunting and making pleased noises.

 

“You spoil him so much.” Rhaegar teased.

 

“He was always attached to me, from the moment of his first hatching. He used to sleep on my chest, like a small, hot coal.” Harry sighed wistfully as he remembered when this huge, colossal dragon had been able to sleep on his chest and could be cupped in both hands and carried in a pocket or a soft leather bag.

 

“Your Graces, how are we to handle this?” Garlan asked, his sword at the ready. “My men are ready to do as ordered. Willas has given his instruction to us and we are to follow your lead in all things.”

 

Harry took in a deep breath. “Xeraxys, your brother Aelyx is behind this gate. Burn it.” Harry commanded. “ _Dracarys_!”

 

Xeraxys looked at him as he spoke, then looked beyond the wall, then at the wooden gate, he waited until he had the command and then he turned and those watching him could see him inhaling. He opened his mouth, showing his terrible dragonfire within. It was hot enough to melt stone, it could incinerate a man in seconds, especially at a short distance…Xeraxys unleashed the fire that was shot through with beautiful blue sparks directly at the Citadel gates. It lasted for mere moments before Xeraxys closed his mouth and cut off the flame, but sweat had broken out on the bodies of all those present and many a man wiped his forehead on his sleeve to clear his eyes of the sting of sweat. The gate was just gone, the stone around it was blackened and now malformed. The entire section of wall would need to be replaced before a new gate could be put in, but that could wait for later.

The empty stalls where scribes sold their custom of reading and writing letters for the illiterate smallfolk met them as they, and the Highgarden men, slipped through the hole where the gate had once stood. There was no one else around, that they could see at least, but Harry knew that they were there and he shared a look with Rhaegar and automatically they both used themselves as shields for their four sons and Viserys. Harry had the feeling that there were archers here, and if there were, they would be aiming at the Targaryens. He would die before he let them harm his sons.

They walked through the seemingly abandoned Citadel and Harry didn’t like it. Not once in his years here had he ever seen the Citadel as anything less than a mass of people moving and teaching and learning.

 

“Where are we heading, Haradarian?” Rhaegar asked him, looking around with critical, suspicious eyes.

 

“I don’t know of any building that could hold Aelyx. Hold on.” Harry took a deep breath and he unleashed a terrible, keening noise, high and serpentine in nature. They had found that he was the only one who could make this call, and all of his babes responded immediately. Xeraxys closer to them, Balerion the loudest, with Viserion, Rhaelys, Aedys, Maegon and Daegon echoing them, but it was the keening, almost pleading, call that came from in front of them that Harry had been listening for. Aelyx was here and he was hurt, but crucially, he was still alive.

 

“Was that…?” Rhaegon started.

 

“Aelyx is hurt.” Harry said angrily, cutting off his oldest son. “Garlan…”

 

“You don’t need to say anything, we’re with you.” Garlan insisted. “Whatever you need, Willas has cast his judgement and we are to follow your command, Your Grace, no matter what you choose to do.”

 

Harry nodded and he turned to Rhaegar.

 

“You know that I would follow you to the ends of the world, my love. I would go with you straight to Valyria, or through the wilds of Sothoryos, to the unknown shadow lands beyond Stygai, or even walk with you north of the Wall. Where you go, I go.” Rhaegar told him seriously.

 

Harry smiled and pulled Rhaegar’s head down to kiss him gently on the mouth.

 

“Then let us go and rescue our Aelyx from his torment.” Harry said.

 

“Do you think the Faith is behind this also?” Rhaegon asked as he looked to the huge, Starry Sept that was near the Citadel, also on the Honeywine. It was unmissable with its high, arched windows and walls of black marble.

 

“They hate us.” Harry said bluntly. “They hate that your Father and I are married brothers, that I am some anomaly to them as a man who can carry and birth babes as a woman would…”

 

“I thought that was because you were born in the Great Sept, on the day of the Mother?” Aenys asked.

 

“In truth we don’t know how I can carry my own babes, all we know is that somehow, I can. The Faith hates this, as it goes against all of their teachings and they try to claim me as some sort of beast or demon, or that I’ve dabbled in dark sorcery. They have always declared Targaryens abominations for marrying sister to brother, or when we have taken more than one wife at a time. They tried to cow us, but Maegor the Cruel saw to the Faith Militant and put them to rest. Now they are trying to bring that back, to set the Faith against us once more. They have hated us since the truth of our marriage and babes first came to light, now it has come to a head and they have taken Aelyx and it was one step too far.”

 

“Anyone who touches our babes has gone a step too far and they will be dealt with. They will be punished for it and face the Kings’ Justice.” Rhaegar agreed.

 

Harry swept his eyes over the buildings and the empty windows. He knew that there were people here, he kept seeing shadows move, but every time that he looked back, closer, no one was there.

 

“Keep your eyes open.” He said quietly. “It looks abandoned, but it’s not. There are hostile men here. Men who are fighting for the Maesters and the Faith for whatever reason.”

 

“Call Aelyx again.” Rhaegar encouraged.

 

Harry took a breath and he unleashed the terrible noise again, listening to seven calls from behind him, and one, quieter keen from in front.

 

“We’re getting closer.” He said. “They must have him on one of the river islands. It’s the only place that he could be that is kept away from the bulk of the people, that’s isolated and big enough to contain him. He sounds like he’s outside.”

 

“What’s the easiest way over, Mother?” Rhaegon asked him.

 

“The only way to get us all across is by boat.” He said. “There should be a dozen boats down by the pier, but it would make us vulnerable. Just as they want it.” He sighed, thinking hard, his fingers pulling along his Maester’s chain. “We need support from the air. Boys, go back and get your dragons and fly over. See if you can’t see which island Aelyx is on. Be careful and watch out for archers on roofs or at windows. Never forget to look up as well as around.” He said sternly, before turning back to Rhaegar. “We need to cross by boat, but they will have more archers trained on us.”

 

“Burn them?” Viserys asked him eagerly.

 

Harry hesitated only for a moment, then he nodded. “Burn them all.”

 

“This crossing is going to be dangerous.” Rhaegar said, as he watched their boys hurry off, back to the dragons.

 

Harry nodded. “We stand out, you more so than I.” He said, casting a worried glance at Rhaegar’s glorious silver-blond hair that was all but glowing in the sunlight. It would be a target that Rhaegar would be carrying around with him, alerting all those against them of where he was at any given moment.

 

“We will shield you in place of your Kingsguard, Your Graces.” Garlan said firmly.

 

“If only you weren’t married.” Harry teased.

 

“Loras isn’t.” Garlan said calmly.

 

Harry chuckled. “Nor is he like to marry. We will consider him for a place when one comes up, he is a formidable knight in his own right, his big brothers have seen to such, but our Aerin is first in line for a place. He has been begging us for several years now, it gets tiresome. We keep telling him that the Kingsguard serve for life, that one of the current members has to die to give him a place. He always seems to forget as such in his excitement.”

 

Everyone fell quiet, the thunderous footfalls of Xeraxys were getting further away as Baelon led him back to the gates of Oldtown with his brothers and his Uncle to collect four more dragons to fly overhead. They needed to get to the pier. 

 

“Where are these boats, Harry?” Rhaegar asked him, almost as if he were reading his very thoughts from his mind.

 

“This way, come.”

 

Harry led the way down to the pier; they were prevented from getting to it when a sudden barrage of arrows came flying at them from what seemed to be all directions and Rhaegar all but tackled him to the floor and covered him with his own body.

 

“I think you did more damage doing that than the arrows would have, my love.” Harry complained, rubbing his neck, which had snapped back when Rhaegar had taken him to ground.

 

“I should have cradled your head, I apologise, my love.” Rhaegar said, cupping his large hand around Harry’s neck and squeezing gently. “I panicked when I saw you in the firing line. I cannot see you hurt, never again.”

 

It took Harry a moment to realise what Rhaegar was referring to, then his mind flashed him back to being squeezed into a tiny crow cage, hurt and bound, barely fed enough to stay alive, and he shivered. He still had the odd dream about it, even now decades passed.

 

“It’s alright, Rhaegar. I was fine then and we’re all going to be fine today. We will get Aelyx back and put this unrest down, with fire and blood if we need to. They obviously want a fight, let us give it to them.”

 

“Be careful. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

 

“If it were you, I would hand the crown to Rhaegon and I would grieve and mourn for you for the rest of my life. I would not be fit to rule if I lost you, my love. You are too important to me.”

 

Rhaegar considered that. “I believe that I would do the same, my love.” He said softly. “But we should try to stay alive today, we cannot put that sort of pressure on our Rhaegon.”

 

Harry took his husband’s hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet. Garlan and his men were formed in a line with their shields up, several of the shields were studded with arrows already.

 

“They’re clearly not going to let us pass unmolested.” Harry scowled. “They want to kill as many of us as they can, before we reach the boats.”

 

“We can box you in, Your Graces.” Garlan said. “If we put shields on all sides they cannot hit you and we can make it to the boats.”  

 

Harry nodded with that idea, there was little else that they could do and though it was slow and cumbersome to travel this way, it was much safer for all of them.

Five dragons, all in a line, not quite wing tip to wing tip to prevent clipping one another during the flight, passed overhead. Harry smiled at his clever boys, they were flying quickly, much too fast for anyone to nock an arrow, take aim and fire at them.

Not too long afterwards they reached the pier and the boats moored there. Rhaegar immediately followed Harry into his boat.

 

“Don’t you think this is a little like sharing a donkey up to the Eyrie, my love?” Harry questioned worriedly.

 

“I don’t care. This time we are not going to plummet down a mountain.” Rhaegar insisted. “I’m not leaving you for a moment, not even just to go in a separate boat.”

 

Garlan joined them and Harry worried that it was too much, there were three high profile men all in one boat…all their enemy had to do was aim at them, sink their boat by aiming at the hull, but he calmed himself as Garlan lodged his green painted shield, with his personal coat of arms, two golden roses of Highgarden, into the front of the boat, covering them. Three other men joined them in their boat and the shields boxed in him and Rhaegar. Him more so, as his husband covered his body with his own, slightly larger one. Harry had gotten used to Rhaegar doing as such over the years, but he didn’t actually enjoy it, he doubted that anyone in his position would, but he’d grown tired of fighting Rhaegar over it. His husband was not going to stop doing as such, no matter how often Harry complained of it and fought against such treatment.

Rhaegar watched ahead of them, but Harry watched the air, looking for the sign that he needed. It was when he saw Viserion hovering over one of the islands that he directed everyone to head for it…it was the island where Aelyx was being kept.

 

“It’s going to be heavily guarded, isn’t it?” Garlan asked.

 

Harry didn’t take his eyes from the river island. “Yes, but I think our boys have most of them in hand though.” He smiled as Rhaelys, who was being directed by Rhaegon, spewed yellow-green fire all over the one half of the island as he flew overhead.

 

It was not much longer that they arrived, unmolested, to the clear side of the island that wasn’t burning. It was then that they got barraged with arrows, before they could even get their feet on solid ground.

 

“Take out the Black Heart of Targaryen!” Someone screamed almost hysterically. “Remove the taint!”

 

“Remove the taint! Remove the taint!” Several men all around them took up the chant.

 

“It seems that they have issue with me.” He said in exaggerated surprise.

 

Rhaegar’s face had taken on a fierce glare and he pulled Harry in tight to him, protectively.

 

“They will not touch you.” He growled.

 

“Why are they focusing on you, Your Grace?” Garlan asked. “You are so good for the realm, so kind and patient, why you?”

 

Garlan seemed to realise then that he had offered insult to Rhaegar and those brown eyes widened before he apologised to Rhaegar gracefully.

 

“It’s alright, Garlan. We’ve known you since you were a mere babe.” Harry insisted. “They’re so focused on me because I’m the abomination who was able to birth our babes. They believe me tainted and think that if I were removed, then it would set everything to rights again. Viserys, Daenerys and Rhaegar are normal, but I and my babes are demon monsters in the eyes of the Faith.”

 

“They will aim for the boys too?” Garlan asked.

 

Harry nodded. “A main reason why I have sent all of them to the air. It would be terrible for me to lose my Rhaegar, but it would be overall more devastating if one of our children were killed here today.”

 

“I agree.” Rhaegar said, touching him gently. “But no one is going to die today. No one but those who took Aelyx and have hurt him.”

 

“I hope he can fly and they haven’t damaged his wings.” Harry fretted. “It will be overall more difficult to get him out safely if he cannot fly.”

 

“Don’t worry over such things needlessly.” Rhaegar told him sternly. “We’ll be with him soon, then we can see to him and check to see if he can fly or not and then plan accordingly, come.”

 

They moved carefully over the island, going to where Viserion seemed to be hovering, beating his wings to keep the smoke and flames from getting near Aelyx, who was keening and calling continuously for his brothers now that he could not only hear and scent them, but he could see them too. He was calling desperately for their help. It was enough to make Harry’s heart break and he moved a bit quicker.

 

“Kill the tainted King!” Another round of chanting started and Rhaegar tucked him up under his arm, to his chest, the both of them behind a large shield.

 

Thankfully Garlan’s men had bows and crossbows too and once they had a target, they could loose their arrows and bolts and take down the members of the illegal Faith Militant.

They did lose men as well, those who got too into their bloodlust and moved from behind their protective shields to take out a man only for another to take him out as well. Or even the lucky arrows that found niches or gaps in the shields and went through flesh…if those men were lucky then it was just a flesh wound, if they were unlucky it found the neck or an organ and it was fatal. Again the lucky ones died quickly, or even immediately, the unlucky ones lingered in agony, crying for help or even for their Mother’s. Harry swore that they would all be avenged.

They met a force of men on foot with their swords at the ready. Harry sucked in a breath and pulled his own sword from its scabbard, preparing himself for the fight to come.

 

“No risks.” Rhaegar warned him.

 

“Not on either of our parts, Rhaegar.” Harry said just as firmly.

 

Rhaegar nodded and they both raised their Highgarden shields that had been dropped by the dead and they locked them together, Rhaegar crouching to be more on a level with Harry, who was an inch or two shorter.

Rhaegon flew over the top of them again, much lower, and he directed Rhaelys to knock over the line of men with low hanging legs, down beat wings and an open jaw and Harry had to laugh…he had to as Rhaelys took nearly all of them from their feet, injuring some, killing others and terrifying the rest.

 

“It seems like we no longer need to worry.” Harry chuckled.

 

“Let us make the most of this opportunity. Come.” Rhaegar insisted as they moved beyond the scattered men, Garlan keeping pace beside them with a score of men.

 

They were followed, but Garlan’s force easily held off the scattered, frightened men who were attacking them half-heartedly as Harry hurried to where he could now see Aelyx, chained down, red blood on his sides and Harry was furious. Aelyx was his babe and to see him being treated in such an appalling manner infuriated him beyond all reason.

He lost all sense and he ran straight to Aelyx’s head, shushing him and cooing to him, trying to sooth him and comfort him and he could almost hear the relief in his babe’s keens as Aelyx realised that his Mother was there for him. Whatever those filthy Maester’s had done to Aelyx, it had left its mark and Harry would not have it so.

A shout of warning was all he got, and then there was pain and Harry pitched forward, off of his feet as he found himself with an arrow lodged in the top of his shoulder. A mere moment later Rhaegar was right behind him, a shield up and Harry could have kicked himself for his own stupidity. He was a complete danger to himself. He should have known better.

 

“Are you alright?” Rhaegar demanded, sounding as frantic as he looked.

 

“Yes, it’s a flesh wound. Do me a favour and pull it free, Rhaegar.” He said.

 

“Slowly?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“No!” Harry said urgently. “No, quickly, in one sharp jerk. It’ll cause more pain if it’s pulled out slowly. One nice yank, Rhaegar, with your hand against my back to push me forward as you pull.”

 

Rhaegar did as Harry had asked him to do and Harry screeched in agony as the barbed arrowhead was removed from his body.

Rhaegar was there then, cradling him and hugging him tightly, his hand pressed tight over the wound, which was now bleeding freely.

Harry sucked up his pain and pushed it aside, Aelyx had to be his priority. His babes would always come before himself.

 

“Stop, enough.” Harry said, pushing against Rhaegar and brushing his eyes clear of the tears of pain that had gathered there. “We need to get Aelyx free, love. The boys can take him back outside of Oldtown and they’ll be much safer.”

 

Rhaegar nodded, but it was not nearly as simple as that. Aelyx was chained tight, the barbed chains digging in and causing wounds as their babe shifted, wriggling, trying to get himself free. Harry grit his teeth and scratched Aelyx just how he liked, just under his eyes on the bony ridge there, trying to comfort him as Rhaegar directed Garlan and his men to heave on the chains, even as three men stood over Harry with their shields, one of them firing back at those archers who were aiming at him. There were still calls to take out the Black Heart of Targaryen going on behind them. Harry ignored them as best as he could.

Finally Rhaegar worked out how the chains were secured to the ground and he used Kingsfire, his Valyrian steel sword, to break the chains that had been melted to the stone floor. Aelyx keened as the barbs were pulled from under his scales and Harry soothed him gently, cooing to him and trying to ignore the throb in his own shoulder as he did so. His back was sticky with blood and his tunic was aggravating the wound. The members of the Kingsguard were going to have his guts for this.

Aelyx stood himself up once he was able and Harry ordered him to fly, to go with his brothers. He trusted that his sons and Viserys would look after him from here on out, as he and Rhaegar made their way back out of the Citadel on foot. Only Aelyx refused to leave him.

 

“Fly on him, Harry.” Rhaegar ordered.

 

“I’m not leaving you!” Harry hissed furiously.

 

“It’s for our Aelyx, he needs you!” Rhaegar said back angrily. “The Faith Militant are trying to kill you, _you_ Haradarian, you need to go with him.”

 

“They will try to kill as many of us as possible, don’t try to tell me otherwise. Bad things always happen when we’re away from one another, Rhaegar.” Harry said stubbornly. “Aelyx, _sōvēs_!” He ordered more sternly, putting a bite to his words, the one that all of his babes, human or dragon alike, knew not to disobey.

 

Aelyx wailed unhappily, but he took flight after his brothers passed overhead and called out to him. Harry saw Rhaegon slow Rhaelys down so they could support Aelyx as he flew rather wonkily and wobbly from being hurt and chained down for so long.

 

“Right, now no talk of leaving either of us anywhere. We’re going together.” He said sternly.

 

Rhaegar snorted in amusement before bending to kiss him. They started back to the small fleet of boats, avoiding the brightly coloured flames, all with a core of green or gold. Rhaelys and Viserion had been very busy.

There seemed to be no one left alive on the island with them, at least not anyone who would be bothering them as Harry watched one man screaming over his own stump of an elbow, where his hand and lower arm used to be.

It was when they reached the bank of the Honeywine that their problems started again as they lost several men to arrows and even one to a spear before they could even climb out of the boats.

Harry rolled onto the pier, with much more difficulty than his younger years, and he crouched with a shield to cover Rhaegar and Garlan as they got out to join him, making a wall of shields to allow more men to climb out and join them on the pier.

 

“You’re the strategist here, Harry, what are we doing?” Rhaegar asked him.

 

“Trying not to die.” Harry quipped back. “No, our best option is to keep together. From my view, they outnumber us. We need to stay together and keep as covered as possible. Be mindful that we can’t kill them all, so we need to watch our backs as well as our fronts.” He said seriously.

 

“You should have gone with Aelyx.” Rhaegar told him worriedly.

 

“Perhaps you ought not to have come at all.” Harry snarled. “We are co-Kings, Rhaegar. I am not now, nor have I ever been, your Queen. Stop treating me as if I am lesser.”

 

“I’m not!” Rhaegar told him furiously. “I am treating you as a loved one and I wish that you were not here in this position, in this sort of danger.”

 

“None of you would ever get out alive if I were not here!” Harry snapped. “I will not have you sacrificing your life when I can get you out.”

 

“I…Your Graces?” Garlan interrupted their stony silence as they glared at one another. “Perhaps this is not the best place for this conversation?”

 

Harry breathed deeply and he nodded. “You are right, Garlan. Come, let us get out of this place first. They have no one on the outer walls, they’re all inside the city and on top of buildings. We go around the city, not through it, and by now we have to assume that they have overwhelmed the guards in Oldtown too, and have taken that over as well as the Citadel.”

 

“It will take us longer to go around than through!” Rhaegar countered.

 

“Of course it will, but it is also the safest way, Rhaegar. I was right, you are all lucky that I remained! Going through the city would have you targeted on all sides! Look at the buildings, look at where they could aim from! They could come from all sides and above at once, there is no cover inside the city!”

 

“So you would put a wall to our backs? We could be pinned in on all sides with no option to get through the wall while giving them ample time to kill us all as we take the longest route back to the gates!”

 

Harry glared at Rhaegar. “Just who is the strategist here, Rhaegar?” He demanded. “Do as you have always done before and defer this decision to me! Why is today so different?”

 

“We don’t have nearly as many men as we usually have with us.” Rhaegar explained. “We are not going to outlast our enemy if we don’t take risks.”

 

“There are risks, Rhaegar, and then there is a suicide venture through the centre of the city. As you said putting a wall to our backs is a risk, but it is a safer risk that having nothing to protect our backs.”

 

Rhaegar breathed heavily for several moments, then he nodded. “I trust you.” Was all he said.

 

Harry reached up to kiss him. “I love you. I would see us all safely from this place, so that we might storm it another day, with the royal army.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Hopefully we can kill a great many here today, then round up those injured and make them talk.”

 

Harry nodded, even as he set off at the head of the group to start their long, arduous walk around the Citadel, around Oldtown and back to the gates. “We get names from them, I haven’t seen any Maesters yet, but then they are truly not fighting men, which is why they have rounded up these men and dubbed them the new Faith Militant, to use them for their own purpose. I have heard a few familiar voices however, especially the first call to kill the Black Heart. Only a Maester would have thought to call me as such, or perhaps a Septon, but I never met any Septons here in my time, so I would not recognise their voice as I would an Archmaester’s whom I had learnt from and studied under.”

 

“You did not pray in the two years that you were here?” Rhaegar asked him in surprise.

 

“No, I spent some time in the godswood, but I was far too busy learning to pray properly. Perhaps that is the reason they dislike me so.” He chuckled ruefully.

 

They fell silent as they edged their way around the Citadel, through the several feet of clear space between the city wall and the nearest buildings. It gave them more space to stay together, to fight if they needed, as opposed to the narrow streets of Oldtown, where they would only be able to stand two or three men abreast.

They made it out of the Citadel with barely any trouble and into Oldtown, and this was the dangerous part of their journey, as their enemy was going to be behind them also, coming out of the Citadel too. They hadn’t made it three steps each before the first arrows flew at them and Harry ducked behind his shield quickly.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Rhaegar called out to him urgently.

 

“Yes, perfectly fine and you, Rhaegar?”

 

“I’m unhurt.” His husband shouted back and it made Harry’s chest lighten some. He would not stop fretting until they were safely away from this place, however.

 

Perhaps he should have waited for the royal army to be called in and sent to meet them, but he had been so worried for Aelyx that he just was not content to wait too long and the royal army, and all their bannermen, was a rather large force to mobilise that would be slow and he had not wanted to wait, not while Aelyx could be hurt or even dying. The very thought had pushed him to almost immediate action, the unknowing had driven him half mad before he’d even arrived in Oldtown…he could not have waited.

Their progress was slow, they were harried from behind and to the side as they tried to make their escape and Harry truly thought that Rhaegar was right, they were not going to outlast their pursuers, when the scrabbling of claws on rock caught his attention and Viserion came around the corner from above them, walking along the abandoned outer wall of Oldtown. Viserys was perched upon him, looking out for them.

 

“There you are. Rhaegon said that you would take the outside wall.” He declared and Harry smiled. Rhaegon would be a fine King.

 

“It is not going to plan.” Harry admitted.

 

“That is why I am here.” Viserys insisted as he used Viserion as a deterrent. The cream and gold dragon spitting golden-orange fire at anyone who came too close, chasing their pursuers backwards. “Baelon is a little further down the wall on Xeraxys, making sure the way stays clear.”

 

“Run.” Harry told the Highgarden men, under Garlan’s command. “We have it from here.”

 

“Leave them your shields.” Garlan directed at two men, who immediately gave over their shields, so that Harry and Rhaegar now had two apiece. “Fix one to your backs.” Garlan told them.

 

Harry nodded and he did as told, slinging the one shield over his back and getting Rhaegar to fix it into place before doing the same to his husband, making absolutely sure that the straps were secure and that the shield would not come loose while they ran.

 

“We will see you soon, Garlan. The dragons lingering out the front will cover your journey back to Highgarden.”

 

Garlan nodded. “Stay safe, Your Graces.”

 

Harry waited half a heartbeat for the Highgarden men to run as fast as they could, their shields in their right hands, protecting their bodies from any arrows that came from the city. Harry kissed Rhaegar and then passed his sword to his left hand and his shield to the right. Rhaegar did the same.

 

“Viserys, keep your wits with you.” Harry told his little brother. “You are as much a target as we are!”

 

“You are the Kings, I am but a mere Prince of Dragonstone. Rhaegon is the crown Prince and he is out on the fields before the city.”

 

“Take no risks!” Harry hissed seriously.

 

Viserys nodded his understanding and then he and Rhaegar started running, trying not to swing their right arms that held their heavy shields protectively over their bodies.

Everything was going well, Baelon was keeping Xeraxys with the Highgarden men, offering them cover and protection, as Viserys kept Viserion with them. It almost seemed too good to be true, it truly seemed as if they were going to get out…then Rhaegar yelled and he dropped to the floor like a stone. He screamed and clutched at his side, an arrow sticking carefully through his fingers of the hand he had raised to press against the wound.

Harry immediately skidded to a halt and dived back to shield his husband’s head with his borrowed shield. Rhaegar had two arrows sticking out of him, one in his lower leg that had caused him to fall and one high in his side, the one that he was holding and seemed to be causing him the most pain, which had caught him as he fell. Rhaegar was breathing strangely and Harry panicked.

 

“Harry, Rhaegar!” Viserys called out desperately. “What happened?”

 

“Rhaegar’s been injured!” Harry shouted. “Viserys, come down here, take him on Viserion, straight back to Highgarden, it is closer!”

 

“It’ll leave you with no protection!” Rhaegar argued furiously, his words coming out strangely high pitched, even as blood streamed from his mouth and nose, where he’d smashed both into the cobbles of the street as he fell.

 

Harry ignored him as Viserys led Viserion down off of the wall, sending a group of men scattering for cover as he unleashed the gold-orange fire at them. Viserys helped Harry to get Rhaegar onto Viserion and then the dragon was back to climbing up the wall with a panicked order of ‘ _hep dōros_ ’.

 

“I’m not leaving you!” Rhaegar cried out, even as he was flopped like a boned fish over Viserion’s neck, screaming out uncontrollably at the pain of the action.

 

“You have no choice, my love.” Harry said, his heart in his throat as his eyes medically assessed the wounds to his husband. “Remember that I love you, always.”

 

“No! No! Viserys, stop!” Rhaegar was near tears, Harry could hear it, but whether they were from emotion or pain, it was impossible to tell.

 

Harry shook his head when Viserys looked at him. “Those wounds need tending to quickly, Viserys, or he’s going to get an infection and die. I don’t like the pace or sound of his breathing, that is the same side that Baratheon smashed in, even now his lung could be pierced. Take him straight to Highgarden. Do not stop.”

 

Viserys didn’t like it, but he nodded resolutely and he directed Viserion to take flight with a harsh command of ‘ _sōvēs_.’

Then Harry was alone and his fear increased tenfold. He didn’t wait around. He took Rhaegar’s dropped sword, there was no way that he was leaving Kingsfire here for these people to find and use against them, before he picked up his shield, and then he ran. He ran as fast as he could, cursing his aging body. He had never felt so old and stiff before in his life, and that assessment included all of the numerous times that he had given birth and the time after he had been rescued from the Kingswood Brotherhood also.

He was out of breath and gasping, his sides hurting and his lungs burning, but not nearly as badly as his shoulder, which was throbbing with every footfall. He saw the group of crudely armed men ahead of him and before they could even react to him running towards them, he cut inside and he went into the city. Exactly what he’d told the others not to do, but then he was just one man, even with Kingsfire he could not fight off a group of armed men by himself, not even if they were merely wielding clubs, kitchen knives and cudgels. They could still kill him easily enough, all it would take was them surrounding him and overwhelming him with superior numbers and just one blow to the head could be enough to kill him.

 

“Your Grace!” A young woman whispered, hanging out of a door to a small, modest house. “Quickly!” She urged him, her terrified eyes wide with panic and Harry took the escape offered to him, hurrying his pace, forcing himself to move through the pain and the breathlessness.

 

He made it into the little house and he was urged to huddle down as the door was slammed closed and barricaded. There were quite a few smallfolk cowering inside.

 

“We heard the dragon crying, Your Grace.” One man said in a rush. “But no one was allowed to leave Oldtown. The Septon said it was necessary, he called for volunteers to make a military group. People were scared, not to join meant that you were against the Faith and the Maesters, most people didn’t know no better.”

 

Harry nodded his understanding. “They knew that Rhaegar and I would come for the dragon. It was why they risked themselves, and all of you too, by taking him, so that we would come here, so that they could try to kill us. All it would have taken was for Aelyx to break free and he would have rampaged through the entire of Oldtown, burning and crushing everything in his pain and his fear. We cannot let this rebellion threaten the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. We will execute all those involved.”

 

The smallfolk all nodded, as if they understood his reasoning. Harry hoped that they did.

 

“When we heard them at their rallies.” The woman who had let him in the house started, then she stopped and shuddered. “They were calling for your death, Your Grace, you who had done nothing to hurt no one!”

 

“It was why we refused to let the Maesters and Septon poison us as they have others.” The man nodded.

 

“They started calling you a taint, Your Grace!” Another, older woman burst out in a hush. “The Black Heart of Targaryen, they said, mutilating your honoured name! As if any one would believe that you were anything but a sweet man with a heart of goodness!”

 

“You were always Haradarian the Heart, travellers come bearing stories of your generosity, your kindness with them. From when you were a young sweet boy, to a strong, caring man. There is no blackness to your heart and I would slay all who dared disagree if I had but half the strength of my youth.” An old, withered man wrapped in a thick blanket declared in a hushed voice. “I was there upon your blessed birth! Right in the Great Sept of Baelor as you were born on the very day of the holy Mother! See I was living in Kings Landing then and I was at that service when you arrived, Your Grace. There are those of us who still know that you are favoured by the Gods! There are those of us even here, so far away from the Capital, who know who you truly are. My children and their children know rightly!” He insisted proudly.

 

“Do the dragons not frighten you?” He asked curiously, thinking back to those in the Dragonpit, who had believed that the dragons terrorised all those of the Seven Kingdoms just by merely living.

 

“They ain’t never done nothing either!” The woman burst out. “I took the children to see the hunting grounds, to show them that the dragons were well fed and wouldn’t bother us none and while we was there, Your Grace, a dragon landed not a great distance from us, making the ground tremble, almost sending us all to our knees. It saw us, it did! It even walked over to look at us more closely. The children thought then that they would be eaten, but I chastised them harshly that the Kings’ dragons wouldn’t hurt us and it didn’t. It bent its great head, took a deep sniff and then turned right back around to hunt the cattle, Your Grace!”

 

Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that the dragon had likely gone to investigate them and to scent them as a food source. If they had been farmers, and had smelt like any sort of animal, they would have been eaten there and then with no hesitation. By luck they hadn’t and the dragon had remembered his training and to avoid the scent of humans.

 

“We watched the great, green and blue dragon eat, Your Grace, the children happier and so fascinated. They insisted on buying a piglet and we left it with the servants, who thanked us graciously in your name for the donation to the dragons.”

 

“That was very generous of you, thank you.” Harry smiled politely. The dragon they had seen had thankfully been Maegon, one of their most tolerant dragons and one of the least likely to attack humans on a whim.

 

“I was there, Your Grace, when you addressed the people when you first came to Summerhall.” One of the younger men said. “What you and King Rhaegar said made sense to me, if the dragons are well fed, they won’t hurt no one. I always buy a piglet or a lamb or a kid when I know I’ll be passing by the hunting grounds.”

 

The tramp of armoured men running by silenced them all and he saw many of the women praying silently to the Seven, their lips moving furiously with no sound as they clutched crudely carved statues of the Gods in their tightly clasped hands.

It was the same every couple of minutes now and they had no time to speak again, all of them too frightened to do so as Harry huddled out of view, worrying about his children and willing them to take flight back to Summerhall. He prayed himself, but not for himself, he instead prayed for Rhaegar. He prayed that his husband lived. His mind kept flashing back to seeing Rhaegar’s blooded face, the two arrows stuck in his body, the one that had caught the previously broken ribs and seemed to have broken them again, or at the least pierced a lung by the sound of Rhaegar’s pained, laboured breathing and he wanted to vomit. He could not repress the shiver of horror and fear that went through him as he recalled the memory. He prayed that Rhaegar lived as he huddled down with this family of smallfolk willing to help him, to wait out the searches that were being carried out to find him.

He would likely be imprisoned if he was caught, as Aelyx had been, or perhaps the men of the new Faith Militant even had orders to kill him on sight, he didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that as soon as they had cleared the streets without finding him, they would then start kicking down doors and searching the houses, he would need to be gone by then, to save these poor smallfolk the consequences of being found harbouring him when all of the Citadel was against him, the Maesters and the Septon both. He just had to figure out a way in which to actually do so safely, for the smallfolk and for himself.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Ser Barristan was absolutely furious with his two Kings. With the whole royal family if he were honest, well…most of them at least. King Rhaegar was on his death bed and kept trying to get up every other hour, despite his rather life threatening injuries and a leg that refused to hold any weight. King Haradarian was missing, still in Oldtown they believed, perhaps even a prisoner of hostile forces once more or even dead for all they knew. The crown Prince Rhaegon had taken over the duties of the King while both of his parents were incapacitated, as per Haradarian and Rhaegar’s own written law, but all he cared about was storming Oldtown and finding his missing Mother and he refused to listen to any counsel from anyone as he ordered the royal army to be called and prepared. He was insistent on heading it himself, instead of giving the command to someone else. It terrified them all, this was the tiny babe they had seen curled up in a shawl, the same boy they had seen throwing a tantrum because he did not want to wear his new boots or eat his carrots. They had watched Rhaegon grow from babe to boy to man and it was very difficult to let go and see him walk into such dangers, but he was a man now himself, he was five-and-twenty, he was a husband, he was a Father of two beautiful little girls, he had earned the right for their respect.

Helaena had sent a raven and insisted that the entire might of Highgarden was at her brother’s disposal, as per her husband, Willas’, own words and Rhaegon had accepted the offer graciously and he’d told Helaena through a replied raven that he would pick up the army from Highgarden on his way to Oldtown with the royal army.

Daenerys had also sent a raven to the Capital, informing her nephew Rhaegon, who was older than she was, that her good-grandfather had pledged all his men to her family to find the missing King, and to avenge the lunacy of the Maesters who had taken Aelyx and had dared to set upon the royal family in the first place. All able men of Harrenhal had been sent to them at the Capital, they had arrived under the command of Ser Oslyn Whent, Daenerys’ beloved husband, a few days previously, ready and willing to fight for their royal family.

Of course as soon as Rhaegar had heard that there was to be a march on Oldtown to find his brother-husband, he insisted on getting up and joining them, despite the fact that he was limping with his injured leg and could hardly breathe right with his broken ribs, the same ribs that Robert Baratheon had smashed in upon the Trident. He had promptly fallen down the stairs when his leg had given in under his weight and he had damaged his body even more and now he wheezed painfully on every exhale. Lord Jon Connington barely left Rhaegar’s side after that, insisting that he was guarding the King…when Ser Arthur had pointed out angrily that it was their place as the Kingsguard to watch over Rhaegar, Lord Jon had angrily pointed out that it was their job to protect the _reigning_ King, who was currently Rhaegon, not Rhaegar, and the Others take him, he was right.

So the seven of them were following around King Rhaegon, who was now five-and-twenty and had his own baby daughters, two of them, Shaea and Rhaenys, with his wife Janei Lannister. Where had the little babe they’d known gone? The one who all but terrorised them as a small boy, running about the Red Keep, hiding from them, climbing curtains, pulling down tapestries and walking across the top of walls that had a hundred foot drops on the other side? Or the one time that he had opened up his own leg with his Father’s Valyrian steel sword, Kingsfire, surely that had not been fifteen years ago when he remembered it as if it were yesterday?

Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn had arrived on dragon back with the twins, Aenys and Aerin, not long after Rhaegar himself had been brought over from Highgarden to Kings Landing after being hastily patched up before being sent to Grand Maester Gormon. Baelon had once again resumed control of his palace from his younger brother Valarr and he had locked up Summerhall to protect his sisters and younger brothers, as well as all those married into the Targaryen family and the babes that they had had.

They would have preferred that the royal family were safely in Kings Landing and under their own protection, of course, and not so close to Oldtown and the Citadel, but it was far too dangerous to move them all at this moment and they didn’t have the time to escort them home properly, not when Haradarian could be in life threatening danger, he needed to be their priority at the moment and the Princes and Princesses would be safe locked up at Summerhall. As King Rhaegon kept insisting to them, Baelon would look after the others, they needed to find his Mother before he was tortured or killed.  

Barristan once again cursed King Haradarian and his penchant for always finding trouble and danger. Of all those who had gone to Oldtown, seven members of the royal family, Garlan Tyrell and all of the Highgarden men he had taken with him and out of them all it was Haradarian who was lost or taken prisoner. He would never have expected Rhaegar to be injured though, nor for him to have lost the precious gift of Kingsfire, that Haradarian had forged for him with his own hands. Rhaegar treasured the sword if only slightly less than he did his own children and he had lost it in Oldtown, much to his fury and frustration, as he was like to never get it back now that it was lost.

 

“We should have left yesterday!” Rhaegon fumed, all but seething as he paced like a caged animal. “Those people could be doing the gods only know what to my Mother! I won’t stand for it. It’ll take us days at a hard march to reach Oldtown as is!”

 

“Your Grace, you need to calm yourself.” Prince Lewyn insisted soothingly.

 

Rhaegon blinked, still not used to being referred to as ‘Your Grace’ and it threw him from his anger, thankfully. He would be able to think more rationally without the judgement-clouding anger filling his mind.

 

“My Mother might be being tortured at this very moment!” Rhaegon snapped.

 

“Or he might be safely hidden within Oldtown. He spent two and a half years there, Your Grace, he might have found a hide hole to nestle into that he remembered from his youth.”

 

“Or he might be on his way back to Summerhall as we speak, we don’t know that they caught him, we do not know if he has been hurt as your Father was, Your Grace.”

 

Rhaegon blew out a breath. “Either way, I want him found and the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll reach him.”

 

“Let us be on our way, then.” Barristan soothed.

 

“We’re ready?” Rhaegon asked then, much happier, once again distracted from his anger.

 

Barristan nodded. “Any stragglers are like to be holding back on purpose, Your Grace. We would do better not waiting for them and then penalising them for their lack of haste once this is over.”

 

Rhaegon sucked in a breath and he nodded his understanding, realising the truth of what was being said to him.

 

“They will rue the day that they decided to stall the aid to my Mother.” Rhaegon promised, a dark look covering his indigo eyes, a perfect match to his Father’s.

 

“Are you leaving?” A voice called out and Barristan’s rage grew…so too did Rhaegon’s.

 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Father!” Rhaegon insisted harshly. “Are you trying to do yourself more of an injury? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

 

“The biggest injury I have is to my heart!” Rhaegar declared to his son. “I do not even feel these body wounds over the pain of losing my beloved husband! Viserys about ripped out my heart when he took me from Harry’s side and I could do nothing to get back to him. Leaving him there by himself, in that hostile place, alone and undefended…” Rhaegar shuddered and closed sad purple eyes. “I need him back, Rhaegon. I need him to be safe and I need him back here with me.”

 

“I will get him back for you.” Rhaegon promised, his words catching in his throat at the raw emotion his Father was showing.

 

“You don’t understand, Rhaegon. I should never have left him. I need to be the one to go back and get him. He is my heart, if anything were to happen to him, it would mean my life.”

 

“It will mean your life if you _do_ go.” Ser Arthur chastised him, as only an old friend who had grown with the King could. “We are not going to Oldtown to rescue King Haradarian only to have you fall to the Stranger along the way. We would have lost King Haradarian before we’d even found him if as such were to happen.”

 

“I’m not being left behind.” Rhaegar raged. “You can’t stop me!”

 

“They can’t, but I can, Father. I am the King and I order you to stay here.” Rhaegon said, a little nervously, as only a boy standing up to his Father for the first time could be, but he was strong and firm too. He would not allow Rhaegar to accompany them.

 

Rhaegar turned on his son as quickly as a lightning flash. “You are my son and you will remember as such!” He spat. “I am still the King and I will be the King until I am dead!”

 

“No.” Rhaegon contradicted, his hands clenching at his sides to hide his discomfort. “The law that you and Mother wrote together stipulates clearly that if neither King is in a fit state to rule, the crown will temporarily pass to the crown Prince, which is me. I am the King until you recover or Mother comes back well. As such I order you to stay in bed to recover your strength and leave this matter to me!”

 

“Your Grace?”

 

Both Rhaegon and Rhaegar turned at the title to face Jon Connington, but it was Rhaegon who answered.

 

“Take him back to his room and keep him resting, Lord Connington.” He ordered. “Have Grand Maester Gormon see that he hasn’t pulled his stitching. If he gets out of bed again, I wish for him to be put to sleep, so that he can rest free of fretting.”

 

“I am not a cripple!”

 

“You may be if you carry on pushing yourself with that leg.” Ser Arthur said.

 

“Come on, Rhaegar.” Jon insisted. “The sooner you rest, the sooner you will recover. If you rest enough you will be better and back on your feet by the time Harry comes home.”

 

Rhaegar looked so angry, his pale face flushed, but there was little that he could do. He and Harry _had_ written that little clause, at the time it had seemed a brilliant way to prevent another King such as their Father from keeping the Iron Throne while suffering from such madness that it affected the entire realm. He had not understood exactly how frustrating it was going to be when he was merely injured and had to watch his son set up the rescue party to go and find his missing husband when he wanted to ride to Oldtown and raze it to the ground to find Harry himself.

He was pulled in the direction of the bedchambers that he shared with Harry and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t go there, he stopped himself and he turned in the other direction. He went to sit in the solar instead, choosing to rest there, but it did little to help him. He saw Harry in every room he went in, he heard Harry’s laughter, his voice as they spoke together. He could recall their conversations perfectly, he could almost feel Harry’s breath in his ear. He remembered watching Harry laughing and rolling on this very floor, playing with their young babes. He closed his eyes and he desperately tried to force the memories from his mind, but he believed that he could smell Harry, that he could feel his skin, his hair, his eyes snapped open when he felt the touch on his arm, having convinced himself that Harry was in front of him, only to see Jon instead.

 

“Don’t touch me.” He snapped. “I can’t have anyone but Harry touch me. I need him back.”

 

“It…it has been six days, Rhaegar.” Jon told him.

 

Rhaegar’s purple eyes blazed with fury. “How dare you even suggest that he is so weak as to succumb after just six days! He was gone a turn when the Kingswood Brotherhood kept him captive, torturing and violating him, and he came out of that alive!”

 

“He was a young boy back then, Rhaegar.” Jon told him quietly. “He is one-and-forty now, it is not the same.”

 

“Shut up!” Rhaegar growled furiously. “Shut up _now_!”

 

He got back to his feet and he started pacing, the limp hindering his progress as he hobbled back and forth, hearing the horns as Rhaegon led the royal army off towards Oldtown, where his Harry was stuck, waiting for him to come back to get him. He growled again and he tugged at his hair in frustration. He had never felt so useless in his life.

He almost subconsciously rubbed at his chest, where an arrow had taken him, shattering the ribs that Robert Baratheon had smashed like dry tinder twenty-three years previously.

 

“You need to rest.” Jon tried, but Rhaegar gave him a filthy look and continued his hobbled pacing. “You will only injure yourself further!” Jon told him.

 

“I don’t care!” Rhaegar hissed, rubbing his ribs harder as they throbbed.

 

“You have children to look after, Rhaegar. How is Aenar’s broken arm? Do you even know?”

 

Rhaegar was furious with Jon, but he was now also feeling guilty. He _had_ forgotten that his eight year old son had a recently broken arm and would be in pain and distress while his Father was injured at Kings Landing and his Mother was lost in Oldtown. He hoped that Baelon was taking care of him and giving him milk of the poppy, or that Valarr had stepped up as Harry had shown him how to dose out the milk of the poppy to Aenar.

 

“Leave me!” He commanded, almost hyperventilating in his anger, filled with emotions that he couldn’t even name or control.

 

Jon gave him a look, but he did eventually leave him alone in the solar. He would send in Grand Maester Gormon, but Rhaegar would prefer him to Jon at this moment in time. His long-time friend was only making him feel worse, making his anger worse and on top of that, he now felt fresh guilt. Harry would be ashamed of him for not taking care of their babes, they had few who remained to them as it was, only truly their sweet Naerys and the eight year old Aenar and Aeron. Their twins, Maelor and Maella, would only be with them for a very short while longer, Maella was already speaking of marriage and Maelor was taken with a young girl named Ella Vance. Very soon they would all be grown too and setting up their own lives and families and he and Harry would be alone…together, always together. He should _never_ have left Oldtown without Harry, his heart.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry cursed his terrible luck as he crouched as silently as he could in the godswood. He had climbed the heart tree two days previous and he had yet to leave it. The power he always felt here had transformed the rather neglected godswood into a thriving, living space of trees, plants and insects.

He had come here as soon as he’d heard the screaming start and the splintering of wood as doors were kicked in and the smallfolk within their homes were dragged out and questioned, their homes torn apart as men searched every inch of it for him. He had quickly thanked the family profusely for harbouring him, despite the danger to themselves, for two days and their corresponding nights before he had slipped out into the streets and he’d ran to where he knew the godswood was from his time here as a young boy. He had been hiding here ever since, for a further two days and nights.

He knew that he couldn’t stay here, however, not least because he was in desperate need of water, but eventually he would be found, it was only inevitable. He needed to move, he needed to get out of Oldtown. He needed to know that Rhaegar was alive and mending, he knew his husband far too well, he knew that Rhaegar would not be resting, he would not be taking care of himself or his injuries and if he was still at Highgarden, then he knew that Helaena would pander to her Father, to his own detriment. He hoped that Willas had sent Rhaegar on to Kings Landing with Viserys after making sure that he wasn’t in any immediate danger of dying. At least there were people in Kings Landing who wouldn’t accept Rhaegar’s nonsense and would keep him resting and healing, chief among them, their Kingsguard and Grand Maester Gormon.

He had been busy up in the heart tree, directing his magic to grow a small, thin sapling that had been half way dead, but had been perfectly placed, very close to the outside wall. He had been feeding it with the last of his strength and he now judged it to be thick enough to hold his weight. He would need to dash to it, climb it and then find some way down the other side. It was not going to be easy and he judged himself in for a broken arm like his babe Aenar, but it was all he could do. He just hoped that he didn’t break a leg or worse, his back or neck.

He waited until all he could hear was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the voices of men had all faded to nothing, no sounds of armour or shields or any boot falls. He stole his moment, slipping down the heart tree, almost dancing around the trunks of other trees, weaving around large bushes and patches of thorny brambles, before making a final dash for the tree that he had meticulously grown over the last two nights. He once again cursed his age as he was not as quick as he’d been in his youth. Perhaps it was time to hand everything over to Rhaegon, who at five-and-twenty was in a much better state to do these sorts of things than he was. He was too damned old for this nonsense.

He clambered inelegantly up the tree, further darkening his mood as he could scramble up a tree like a fucking squirrel as a boy, yet now he made the tree into an inaccessible mountain at nearly forty-two. He almost judged himself deserving of being caught, but thankfully he wasn’t and he huddled up in the branches, covered in leaves as he listened with bated breath for any cries of alarm to be raised that would be indicative of him being spotted by any of those searching for him. Nothing came and after long minutes of silence with no cries or shouts, with his heart hammering in his chest and the blood roaring through his ears, he breathed out a relieved, shaky sigh.

Breathing raggedly from his exertion and from the fear of being caught, he took a moment to centre himself and then he slipped down a few branches and shimmied out onto the outer wall of the city. He peered over the other side and he grimaced. It was a touch higher than he’d thought it would be, especially looking down at the ground from up here. There was nothing else for it, he had to get out of the city before he was found or he would be as good as dead. He would much rather die of his own accord, attempting to escape, than to be found huddled up like a scared babe and killed on an enemy sword.

Gritting his teeth and sucking in a steadying breath, he lowered himself over the wall quickly, before he was seen, and he lowered himself down as far as he could, holding onto the edge of the rough stone wall with just his fingertips, before he let himself drop into thin air. He had a moment of weightlessness, of falling, and then he impacted hard into the solid ground and he tried not to scream as the pain tore through his body, the force knocking the breath from his lungs.

It took much too long for him to catch his breath again, much too long to remember what was happening and where he was and why. He carefully, gingerly, tested his body, lifting and rolling each part of it to check for injuries. Miraculously, he seemed to be completely unharmed. He thanked all the Gods, the old and the new, for his escape, but he was still not out of danger, not yet. He might now have been outside the walls of the hostile city, but there were going to be guards looking out for approaching armies, namely the royal army and all their banners. They would easily see him if he started to run out into the open fields and then it was only a matter of picking him off with an arrow to the back.

He would need to be careful, there were open fields all around Oldtown, but if he waited until night fell, here against the wall, hidden in the bushes and scrubby weeds, then he’d have a higher chance of survival. He sighed. At least that would give him some time to recover from his desperate fall from the high city walls. He still needed a drink of water too. Perhaps he should run towards the Honeywine, take a deep, cleansing drink and fill up his single water skin that had since gone dry, before following the river to Brightwater Keep, which was the seat of house Florent…he would need to be careful navigating the Keep though, Rhea Florent was married to Lord Leyton of Hightower…if Lord Leyton had sided with his Maesters and the Septon of his city of Oldtown, despite the fact that his daughter Alerie had been married to his liege Lord, Mace Tyrell, whose son Willas was now Lord of Highgarden, then the Florents might try to seize him and hand him back to the Maesters and the Faith of Oldtown. He would be better off skirting Brightwater Keep and heading straight for Highgarden, keeping off of the Roseroad and skirting the Mander too, just in case.  

He sat with his back to the wall, covered in bushes and shrubs and he tried to plan his way to Highgarden, but whichever way he chose, without a horse it was going to take him weeks of walking to get there safely. He sighed and sat back, waiting for the sun to set so that he could start his long, dangerous journey to Highgarden, the closest city that was assuredly friendly to him.

He couldn’t wait to see his Helaena, he needed to know that Rhaegar was fine and well and that his young Aenar was being looked after properly and that Aelyx was recovering from his captivity and the wounds inflicted upon him by the cruel Maesters.

He didn’t want to be stuck here any longer, he didn’t want to spend the next few weeks walking all the way back to Highgarden, but currently he had no other choice if he wanted to get back to his family alive at all. He would have to grit his teeth and do it, then he could rest and exact his revenge upon the Maesters and the Faith of the Seven, who had broken the law by setting up a Faith Militant, despite the stringent laws that forbade any religion from taking up arms. They had only been ordered to do as such because none of the Maesters were fighting men. They couldn’t have done this by themselves, they needed the poor, frightened smallfolk to fight for them, to be their sword and shield, as men of learning were rarely men of action. They would be punished for their illegal actions, he swore it.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Helaena was worried, but she tried not to show it as she led her young son, Garyn, to break his fast in the solar. It had been almost a turn since the initial assault on Oldtown, two weeks since Rhaegon had led the royal army, including her husband and his two brothers and Renly Baratheon, who preferred to be called Tyrell, to the gates of Oldtown to find their missing Mother.

The Faith Militant rebellion had been put down and several Archmaesters, a dozen Maesters and the Septon had all been arrested for their crimes against the Seven Kingdoms and their treason towards the royal family. Oldtown had been turned upside down, but there was no sign of their lost Mother anywhere within the city.

Rhaegon had intensively questioned those imprisoned, even as a gentler approach was used for the terrified smallfolk to see what they knew, but apart from one family of smallfolk, who Willas had told her in a raven had insisted that they had harboured the King in their small home for two days and two nights, no one had seen her Mother at all.

Garyn was, of course, very inquisitive and curious about all the fuss and commotion. He knew that his ‘Nan’ was missing, that his Father and Uncles had gone to rescue him, but he didn’t truly understand why or what was happening and Helaena tried to keep his routine as normal as possible, with the help of her good-sister, Margaery, to try not to show him her deep worry, but he was a very observant boy, as she had been herself at his age, and he picked up on things regardless, particularly her lack of sleep and how very little she was eating, much to her frustration and exasperation.

 

 “When is Father coming home?” Garyn asked her as he picked up some bread and dipped it in honey.

 

“Soon, sweetness.” She said with a bright smile. “He’s just helping your Uncle Rhaegon.”

 

Garyn nodded his understanding and he went back to his meal. Helaena joined him, eating small morsels for her son’s sake, but she was unable to stomach much more than a few chunks of bread dipped honey washed down with some water. She just wanted her Mother to be found safely, for one of those awful, cruel Maesters to tell them where he was, to say what they had done with him, to admit to where they were keeping him. It was driving her…all of them, completely mad.

After breaking their fast, having pretended to her son that she had eaten more than she truly had, Helaena handed Garyn off to the master-at-arms for him to learn his sword play, which then left her free to fret and worry about her Mother and his whereabouts freely, without also having to worry about her son picking up on her fears and having it then disturb him and his routine, at least until the noon meal came about, however, when she took charge of Garyn again ad she had to lock away all of her worry and fear under a mask of smiles and bright, airy happiness that she truly didn’t feel.

She spoke with her son gently, humming in all the right places as he regaled her with a blow-by-blow account of his practice in the yard and he mentioned several times that Ser Alleran had thought him to be good enough to become a knight, once he was older. Helaena praised him enthusiastically every time that he mentioned it, to encourage him, of course. Margaery also helped her with this, by telling Garyn of all the knights of house Tyrell, all of the legends that had been surrounding their family for centuries and that one day, once he was old enough, he would join his Uncles, Garlan and Loras, as a knight of house Tyrell.

It was just after the noon meal when things took a rather unexpected turn, when a servant came hurrying to her, breathless, sweating and red faced, claiming that her Mother, the King Haradarian, had stumbled through the city gates and that the guards had immediately whisked him to the Maester’s sick rooms.

Helaena had passed Garyn off to the servant with instructions to look after him and she lost all dignity as she picked up her skirts and ran all the way to the sick rooms, ignoring shouts of alarm from her attending ladies as they saw her, and the city guards who didn’t know what was happening and called out inquiries as to what was wrong. The poor Septa of Highgarden had all but fainted as she saw Helaena running through the hallways, showing off her lower legs to all who cared to see them, but she did not care and neither would her husband begrudge her her moment of panicked flight after hearing such news.

She had nearly passed out herself when she finally barged into the Maester’s rooms, only to see her battered, weary Mother sat upright on one of the three beds. She did not realise that she was crying in sheer relief until her Mother forced himself to stand up and had come to embrace her, wiping her eyes gently with injured, dirty hands. Helaena did not care as she held him tightly and just allowed herself to cry, letting go of all the fear and worry that she had been carrying with her for the past turn, trying to hide it away from her curious, far too perceptive son. She felt so much relief, so free in that moment of crying, that she could not even speak for long minutes as she held her Mother tightly and allowed the fear to drain from her body. It took long minutes, but she did eventually manage to find her voice.

 

“Where have you been?!” She demanded through her tears. “We have been going completely mad looking for you.”

 

“I had to walk here, sweet one.” He replied to her in a soft, tired croak. “It is a fair distance from Oldtown.”

 

“Brightwater Keep was closer, Mother!” She said.

 

“I could not risk their loyalty, Helaena. Just in case. Rhea Florent is married to Lord Hightower.”

 

“They were not involved. When Lord Leyton was hefted out of his tower to answer to Rhaegon he had no idea what was going on or what had happened. Willas says that he has been so far removed from his own city and people that they do not even bother him with grievances and such, instead they go to the Septon or to the Maesters.”

 

“Rhaegon?” Harry asked with dread in his heart. “Your Father, how is he?”

 

“Oh, he’s fine! He’s completely fine, Mother.” Helaena assured quickly and she watched as her Mother sagged with relief, much as she had done when she’d first seen him alive and now safe. “Viserys took him over to Kings Landing as soon as he was stable, he is on the mend, but he is still recovering, so Rhaegon has assumed the crown for the time being. He’s doing a good job of it too.”

 

“I never doubted that he could.” Harry smiled tiredly, even as the Maester fussed over him and directed him back into the bed. “We raised him well, we raised all of you well.”

 

“Are you truly alright, Mother?” She asked worriedly.

 

“Yes, darling. I’m fine, just very tired, a little weak from hunger and thirst, but otherwise fine. I am almost a Maester myself, remember?”

 

“Is he telling the truth?” She asked the Maester of Highgarden, overseeing her Mother.

 

Harry laughed. “You sound more and more like your Father.” He teased with a smile that showed off his very sore looking, chapped lips.

 

Helaena strode to a jug of water and poured her Mother a goblet, passing it over to him and watching critically as he drank it.

 

“He is telling the truth, my Lady.” The Maester assured her. “There is nothing more serious than an untreated wound to the shoulder.”

 

“Ah, the arrow wound. I cleaned it with river water, but I had nothing else to treat it with. I found some painkilling herbs by the roadside, but nothing else.”

 

“It is very clean, Your Grace, it is likely your cleanliness of it that has contributed to your survival and the lack of infection or festering. You have taken great care with it.”

 

Harry nodded, even as he refused to pause in his drinking. It felt wonderful to have clean, fresh water at his disposal. As much of it as he wanted, without being limited by how much he could hold in the single water skin he had. As soon as he’d hit the Mander, that had been the best time for him, as he could follow it up to Highgarden, but between the Honeywine and the Mander, there had been nothing and that week and a half of rationing and then the panic as the water skin had once again run dry had been truly terrible. He had had to ration a single bag of water for a week and a half and it had been so difficult and there had been times when he’d thought that he would just curl up and die, where he had thought that he’d never be able to get back up again or where he’d thought that he’d not be able to take another step more. The worst had been the two days he’d been forced to walk on with no water and no idea as to how long it was going to take him to reach the Mander. The days where he had believed truly that he was going to die without ever making it to Highgarden, either from exhaustion and thirst as he walked or that he was just going to fall sleep one night and never wake back up again. But it was all over now, he had finally made it to Highgarden. He could finally lay eyes upon his sweet, beautiful daughter and he was finally back in touch with his family. Now all he needed was to know that Rhaegar was truly alright, to see him with his own eyes to be assured that he was, and to know that Aelyx was healing after his terrible ordeal and that Aenar’s arm was still being taken care of properly.

 

“Helaena, can you send out ravens please, sweet one?”

 

“Oh, of course.” Helaena said, startling.

 

“You can tell Garyn that I’m here too. I wouldn’t mind seeing him.”

 

“No, he would climb all over you and you need to rest.” Helaena said sternly. “You’re already going to be swarmed, as soon as those ravens arrive at Kings Landing, Oldtown, Harrenhal and Summerhall you’re going to be mobbed and you need some rest before then.”

 

Harry sighed, but he conceded to his daughter, he was rather tired after all…very tired as a matter of fact. So he laid himself back against the wonderful feather pillow and he closed his eyes. It took just several moments for him to fall asleep on the soft mattress when he’d been sleeping on the cold, hard earth with not even a blanket or a cloak to cover himself with for the last three weeks.

Helaena covered her Mother over gently with a blanket and tucked him in. She laid a kiss to his dirty face. She would leave instruction for a bath to be drawn as soon as he was awake next so that he could get himself clean. She knew that he would want a nice hot bath to make himself feel better, but as a priority she needed to send out those ravens. Rhaegon would need to be told, Baelon at Summerhall needed to tell their younger siblings the good news and her Father at Kings Landing would need to be told. He had not been the same man by all accounts, Rhaegon had told her so on his way down to Oldtown with the royal army and six members of the Kingsguard at his back. He needed to be put from his misery, they all did.

 

“Is it truly him, Helaena?” Margaery asked as she fell into step beside her.

 

“Yes.” Helaena said with a smile. “It is truly him. He _walked_ here, Margaery! All the way from Oldtown.”

 

“Is he unharmed?” Margaery asked seriously.

 

Helaena nodded happily. “Completely unharmed. He has the arrow wound that my Father mentioned, but it is clean and the Maester says that it is already healing well. He has numerous other scratches and bruises, but they will not cause problems. The biggest worry is that he has had no food and little water for a long while. He will need to be fed slowly at first, it will take a little time, but he will make a full recovery. I could not be happier.”

 

“I am glad that he has been unharmed and is going to be fine.” Margaery smiled. “Will you tell Garyn?”

 

“Not just yet, my Mother needs to rest and he is fast asleep. I need to send ravens out to the others. It will take a few days to reach them as is.”

 

Margaery nodded her understanding and hurried along beside her, the both of them heading to the rookery and to the cages of ravens, each with a city label upon them.

Helaena wrote the four notes herself, plucking four strands of hair to set into a small blob of wax in the corner of each scroll. She tied them up with the Highgarden ribbon of green edged with gold and she and Margaery tied them delicately to the legs of their corresponding raven, setting the four of them free to fly away, each of them heading in a different direction.

The news was now away, winging its way to those who needed to know. It would not be long before her brothers arrived on dragon back, before her Father arrived on Balerion, or her brother, Rhaegon, arrived with her husband and good-brothers from Oldtown. She just hoped that her Mother had a chance to rest a little first, because as soon as those ravens were received, it would take mere hours for her brothers in Summerhall to arrive, it would be a few days before Rhaegon got here, but the raven would take twice as long to reach Kings Landing, as it was the furthest away. She knew that her Father would ignore everyone who would try to keep him resting and he would come straight here upon Balerion regardless of his still healing injuries, and once he got here, he would not leave their Mother alone for a moment. Until then, she would make sure that her Mother went undisturbed and was well fed and well rested, with plenty of water on hand for him. He would need his strength for the battle that was to come.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Ser Barristan leapt to his feet, along with five of his sworn brothers, when a servant came barging into the King’s rooms without so much as a by your leave. He had his sword out and ready to swing before the poor man could blink.

The servant fell to his knees and held up both hands to show that he was unarmed. He had a piece of paper clutched tightly against the palm of his one hand with his thumb.

 

“Your Grace!” He said quickly. “I was sent by Maester Wi…”

 

“I do not care to hear more pleadings from those supplicating Maesters!” Rhaegon said sharply. He was in a dark mood following a night of little sleep and after almost a turn since his Mother’s disappearance with no sign of him anywhere within the city, despite them tearing it to pieces to search for him, and his Father’s missing Valyrian steel sword, Kingsfire.

 

“No, Your Grace, a raven has arrived from Highgarden, Your Grace.” The servant said quickly, almost stuttering in his haste to get the King to understand why he was there.

 

“Is Helaena alright?” Lord Willas Tyrell asked urgently, standing quickly in alarm. “My son?”

 

“It was her missive, my Lord, but His Grace, King Haradarian is at Highgarden.”

 

“Hand over this missive from my sister!” Rhaegon demanded.

 

Ser Barristan took the note from the servant’s outstretched hand and he passed it over to King Rhaegon. The young man read the small slip of paper through several times and he exhaled deeply, all but sagging in his seat, resting his head back against it. He suddenly looked much older than his years, and as exhausted as Barristan had ever seen him. It was a terrible look upon one so very young. This rebellion had affected him very deeply and the nightmares of it would be a long time in leaving.

 

“Is the missive true?” Ser Loras asked.

 

Rhaegon nodded. “It is in Helaena’s own hand and she has placed a single strand of her hair into the corner with wax. It is a code that we all made when we started getting older. If ever a missive came without that strand of hair then we would know that it was written under duress. Mother truly is at Highgarden.”

 

“Are we going back?” Barristan asked.

 

“Yes. I need to see my Mother alive and well with my own eyes.”

 

“It is not so far to Highgarden.” Ser Garlan said. “We have imprisoned all those of note, executed those who rebelled and now King Haradarian has been found. We have no need to stay here.”

 

“If anyone could have escaped a locked down city and then walked all the way to Highgarden, I would only believe that King Haradarian could have done as such.” Prince Lewyn smiled, trying to lighten the mood of things.

 

He succeeded as Rhaegon smiled as well. “He only lives to do what other men would claim as impossible. If it were anyone else I would declare them a liar, but not my Mother. Come, we need to leave immediately, if Father gets there first, I will not be seeing either of them for the next week.”

 

Oldtown became a hive of activity as Rhaegon stationed most of the royal army within the city, just in case, he told them, though he had no doubts that Helaena’s missive had been true. Of course she would recognise their own Mother, but just in case it had been a false missive, he was not taking any chances that the Maesters would take his absence to move his captive Mother to a different location. Barristan was very proud of the young man, who was shaping up to be as honourable, as just, and as intelligent as both of his parents. Rhaegon had handled the pressure of a King’s duties very well and he would be sure to tell Rhaegar and Haradarian as such as soon as they had both recovered from this debacle. Perhaps this would teach them not to storm off in the heat of the moment without even a single member of their Kingsguard at their backs, what use were their white shields if their Kings left them all behind?

They were gone that very afternoon, on fresh, well rested horses, and Rhaegon rode as if he were the wind itself, pushing his horse faster, harder, forcing the rest of them to keep up pace with him or be left behind in his dust.

 

“This reminds me of another frantic horse ride following a possessed King.” Prince Lewyn jested. “Funnily, we were riding to King Haradarian back then too!”

 

Barristan remembered the moment all too well, the news that Kings Landing had fallen, that King Haradarian and King Aerys had been slain, that the city had been taken by the Lannisters in the name of Robert Baratheon, who had already been dead, still lying, back down, in the Trident where he’d been slain by Rhaegar’s own sword, Kingsfire. Rhaegon had looked for the missing sword, but he had been unable to locate it, much to the young man’s anger as he had promised his Father that he’d find both his Mother, and the missing Valyrian steel sword of house Targaryen. He had been unable to do either.

Barristan remembered the fear he had felt as they’d ridden from the Trident to Kings Landing, a fear that was echoed in all of their faces as they had ridden the Kingsroad hard, only to find Kings Landing smouldering, bodies piled in the streets, the gold lion on red of Lannister floating on the battlements and from the Red Keep. That fear had been compounded when they’d found the slain King Aerys…perhaps the taunts on the battlefield had been true, perhaps the messenger they had met on the road had been correct. But no. They had found King Haradarian alive and well, if a little blooded, six turns pregnant with the Prince Baelon of Summerhall, sitting calmly and peacefully in the godswood, a perfectly content and unharmed infant Robb Stark tied to his front.

This desperate race towards Highgarden felt eerily similar, only this time they were following a different King as Rhaegon headed their group. Rhaegon who was almost of an age with his Father during that last race towards King Haradarian and once again, as he had done twenty years before, he prayed to the Seven that Haradarian was fine and well, as he’d been after the sack of Kings Landing. Rhaegar loved his husband so dearly that he would not survive his death, of that Barristan was absolutely sure, and there was truly no telling how Rhaegon would react to such an event as both of his parents’ dying either. The grief would be all consuming, throughout the entire Seven Kingdoms, if the two Kings died as a result of this.

Thankfully they arrived without much issue at Highgarden, which was surrounded by dragons, but not one of them was Balerion. Rhaegar had yet to arrive, but Baelon and several others from Summerhall had. Then it only took scant hours to reach one end of Westeros to the other upon dragon back, so truly it came as no surprise that they were already here.

They were admitted quickly and with little fanfare. Helaena had taken her duties as Lady of Highgarden very seriously in her husband’s absence and she had declared there to be no need for formalities, a good call as Rhaegon was almost completely out of patience. He had almost ridden his horse lame to get here, and he begrudged even stopping to eat or sleep, but his Kingsguard had been firm with him and had insisted that he eat and rest, and as three of them had been looking after him since he was a mere babe in swaddling still, he knew them, he respected them, but mostly, thankfully, he listened to them. The same could not be said of his wayward parents, who seemed to enjoy frustrating them and rushing off without them into every perceivable danger.

They met Helaena first, who had been forewarned of their arrival and had come to greet them and to lead them directly, and quickly, to where Haradarian was staying.

 

“Helaena, is it truly him?” Rhaegon could not help but ask as soon as he saw his sister.

 

A very beautiful woman now at four-and-twenty, Helaena kept her glossy black hair short and neat at her shoulders, she was wearing a stunning gown of green silk, the golden rose of Highgarden upon her left shoulder. She smiled at them and nodded once to her older brother’s question.

 

“It truly is him. He came stumbling in through the gates out of the blue, tired and bruised, covered in numerous cuts, but he has had plenty of rest now. The others are with him. Come.”

 

Helaena stepped towards them and slipped her arm about her husband’s middle, kissing him in greeting happily before she led the way to a large solar, directing her husband silently with her arm about his back, and true enough, there was Haradarian, all bright smiles and genuine laughs as he listened to Baelon chatter.

 

“Mother!” Rhaegon exclaimed in sheer relief and those bright green eyes turned to them and the smile widened.

 

“Rhaegon, sweet boy.” Haradarian greeted, forcing himself to stand, but it was clear that he was not yet fully recovered as he stumbled slightly upon finding his feet. Baelon rushed to steady his Mother and Rhaegon had done the same, but he waved them both off. “I am fine, truly. I am just a little tired still.”

 

“Did you truly _walk_ from Oldtown, Mother?” Rhaegon asked. “Oldtown to Highgarden is such a far way, especially on foot. It took us long enough to get here on horseback.”

 

Haradarian nodded. “I jumped from the city walls and then left under the night’s darkness, sticking to the Honeywine for water. I skirted past Brightwater Keep as I could not be sure of their loyalty and I kept away from the road. I went straight to the Mander and then followed it all the way to Highgarden. It took me a while, but I did make it eventually.”

 

“I am still sure that you have a death wish.” Prince Lewyn exclaimed.

 

Harry laughed happily and it felt wonderful to hear that laugh again after, once again, believing him to be dead.

 

“I don’t do these things on purpose, Lewyn!” He said with a tired grin.

 

“I am not so certain that that is true anymore!” The man replied with a grin of his own.

 

Harry laughed again, but soften his gaze when Rhaegon sat next to him, touching him, once again a small boy who needed his Mother’s reassurance and comfort.

 

“I have heard a great deal about how well you handled yourself in our absence, Rhaegon. I am so very proud of you.” Harry said gently, pulling his son’s head to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the smooth forehead. “Of course your Father and I never doubted you in the least, we knew that if anything were to truly happen to us, then we could count on you to do as you have been taught and you did so wonderfully.”

 

“I missed you.” Was all Rhaegon said. “When I could not find you in Oldtown, when everyone we questioned had no idea as to where you were or where you were being kept…I was so afraid, Mother.”

 

“It is normal to feel such emotions in the unknown, Rhaegon. Do not mutter such a confession under your breath as if you are ashamed of it or your own feelings. It is normal. Your Father had been seriously injured, I was missing, your brothers and sisters felt the same fear as you did, you are not to be excluded, Rhaegon, just because you are the crown Prince _or_ the acting King. You do not have to hide such fears, especially not from me.”

 

“I just wanted to find you.” Rhaegon said softly. “I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was convinced that you were being hidden in some secret dungeon in the Citadel. That someone there knew exactly where you were and were not saying.”

 

“Oh, Rhaegon.” Harry sighed, embracing his son. “Of course you thought as such, you had no idea that I’d escaped the city by jumping from the city wall, much less that I avoided the road and _walked_ to Highgarden. Of course you had no way of knowing, you are justified in the actions that you took.”

 

“I hurt people, Mother. I tortured them for information on where you were, on where you were being kept, and you weren’t even there. They were telling the truth and I didn’t believe them and I then hurt them more.”

 

“I see.” Harry said softly. “Rhaegon, tell me sweet one, what do you think your Father would have done in your situation, if he had not been injured and I still missing?”

 

“I…I don’t know.” Rhaegon faltered.

 

“Oh, you do.” Harry persisted seriously. “You know that he would have done exactly the same, and much worse, to find me if he thought that I was being kept as a prisoner in that city. If he believed that I was there, and there was no possible way to know otherwise, he would have torn it to pieces, the people with it, and nothing would have made him stop. Nothing. You showed a reasonable amount of restraint and I’m proud of you for that. I would never wish your Father injured, of course not, but I am glad at least that you were in charge of this rescue party and not him. Rhaegar would not have been objective or merciful. How is he anyway, does anyone know?”

 

Harry looked to his sons, then to the Kingsguard for an answer.

 

“He is doing much better, Your Grace.” Barristan said gently. “He refused to rest, refused to do anything other than shout and rage, especially when Prince Rhaegon assumed the crown. He was very frustrated and angry and he was frightened for you. He did not wish to leave you and all he has spoken of is going back to get you. Grand Maester Gormon has had to put him to sleep several times already, for his own good.”

 

“The dragons can only take two grown adults.” Harry sighed. “Viserion could not have taken Viserys, Rhaegar and me, and Rhaegar was the injured one this time.”

 

“I beg to differ, you had an arrow wound in your back.” Helaena chastised him.

 

“That was nothing.” Harry waved away. “Rhaegar had two arrows sticking out of him and he couldn’t walk or breathe properly. We would have never gotten out of the city with him limping and unable to fight and he would not have survived if he had gotten an infection or a fever as I had no way to treat him. I made the right decision at that moment and I am fine, a little tired and in need of some rest, I’ll admit, but otherwise I am completely fine and I will recover given some more time.”

 

“You jumped from the city walls, are you sure that you’re alright?” Prince Lewyn asked sceptically. “No head wound? No broken bones? Oldtown has some of the largest walls in the Seven Kingdoms, of course exempting Harrenhal.”

 

Harry nodded. “I didn’t so much jump as I lowered myself down as far as I could and let myself fall. I was uninjured from the impact of hitting the ground, just slightly winded for several moments. I have said before, I am rather difficult to kill and many a man has tried over the years and not one of them has ever been successful.”

 

“Thanks in part to your wonderful Kingsguard.” Lewyn teased cheekily, out of turn Barristan judged and as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he gave his sworn brother a stern look of chastisement. “Oh, lighten up, Barristan the Old.”

 

Barristan could not stay stern, he chuckled, especially as he heard the stifled chuckles of the babes he had watched over from birth. Sweet Helaena delicately covering her mouth, silver haired Baelon who snorted and ducked his head and strong Rhaegon, who choked out a chuckle and then coughed to hide as such.

 

“I am not so old that I cannot still beat you.” Barristan said seriously, though he was smiling through the threat.

 

“I do not doubt it, you are still a fearsome knight, despite your advancing years.” Lewyn teased.

 

“You are not that much younger than I. I believe that you forget as such.”

 

They were spared the teasing quarrel when the dragons started roaring and one cut above the others and then the ground shook. Balerion had arrived, and only one person would come to them riding upon Balerion the Moving Mountain. Rhaegar had come to Highgarden.

Harry settled himself down, knowing that Rhaegar would near enough charge at him as soon as he saw him. Rhaegon moved to make space and everyone cleared a pathway from the door. It amused him that Rhaegar would be getting a wider berth than Balerion would down in the courtyard with his brothers.

It took a mere several minutes before a harried, frightened looking servant hurried into the room, holding open the door as Rhaegar came striding through, Ser Arthur at his back. Purple met green as they caught one another’s gaze and then Rhaegar actually ran to him, dipping a little on his right side leg, falling to his knees in front of the soft settee that Harry was sat in and they both moved together, they both threw their arms around one another and held on tight.

 

“We couldn’t find you.” Rhaegar told him, his voice harsh and tortured from stress and too many tears.

 

“You were injured.” Harry replied worriedly.

 

“I thought that you were dead.” Rhaegar answered, his arms clenching tighter.

 

“I worried that you were too.” Harry said softly. “I had no idea if you’d survived the arrow wounds, I didn’t know if one had caused an infection, or if the arrow had taken you in the lung or not, or if a shard of rib had slipped in, I didn’t know.”

 

Rhaegar held him tighter and Harry in turn held Rhaegar tighter, just relishing the action of holding him again after so long.

 

“What happened, how did you get here?” Rhaegar asked him after absorbing his presence enough to loosen his hold and pull back enough to see Harry’s weary face, and those wonderful, beautiful eyes that he had feared that he’d never see again. “The missive was rather rushed and vague and though I appreciate a timely raven, I was so worried about the lack of details.”

 

“I walked here, Rhaegar.”

 

“From Oldtown?” Rhaegar asked, his eyebrows lowering in concern.

 

Harry nodded. “Yes. I went via the Honeywine, gave Brightwater Keep a very wide berth and then I walked right up to the Mander, following it until I had reached Highgarden.”

 

“Anything could have happened to you out there!” Rhaegar raged. “Any brigand or cutthroat could have murdered you!”

 

“You know what would have happened to me if I’d stayed.” Harry replied calmly. “I could not have hidden forever, Rhaegar. Eventually they would have found me and it would have been worse than the Kingswood Brotherhood. They would have ripped me to pieces, they already knew that they were dead, they had nothing else to lose.”

 

Rhaegar’s purple eyes flinched at hearing that and Harry found himself pulled back into a tight hug, his brother-husband holding on to him desperately.

 

“I love you.” Rhaegar whispered to him, stroking his hair with gentle hands.

 

“I love you as well, I always have and I always will.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled then and pulled back again to kiss him gently.

 

“Are you still injured?” Harry asked. “How is your leg? I saw you limping. Your ribs too? Though your breathing sounds much better than the last time I saw you.”

 

“I’m able to stand and walk upon it now, but it is still a little difficult to move quickly with the damned thing, though I have been assured that it will fully heal. The other arrow shattered my ribs, you were right after all, my love, as you so often are. Robert Baratheon’s hammer left its damage behind, they were not as strong as they once were and shattered easily with a mere arrow.”

 

“How badly?” Harry asked worriedly, laying a soft hand over Rhaegar’s side. He could feel the tight bandaging underneath.

 

“Not as badly as when I was struck with the hammer, it was only an arrow after all, but I was wearing armour back then too.”

 

Harry smiled. “An easy, quick fix then.” He chuckled.

 

“They are already healing, Grand Maester Gormon said so. How about you, are you injured?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. Not at all.”

 

“The arrow wound in your shoulder?” Rhaegar persisted worriedly.

 

“It is almost completely healed.” Harry said with a grin. “Unlike you I can look after my own wounds well enough to keep out infection and thus I healed much faster.”

 

“And you sustained no other injury?” Rhaegar persisted.

 

“None. I’m just very tired from my weeks of walking with rationed water.”

 

Rhaegar’s purple eyes widened at that and he looked around for a water jug automatically before Harry stopped him with gentle hands.

 

“I have been well plied with food and water, Rhaegar. Our Helaena would not have left me as I was.” He teased. “I have been forced on bedrest since I wandered into Highgarden.”

 

“You did not so much wander as you stumbled in, Mother.” Helaena told him.

 

Harry smiled at her. “Okay, so I may have stumbled a little.” He laughed.

 

“You could barely keep your legs under you.”

 

“Alright, Helaena sweet one.” Harry grinned. “There’s no need to completely humiliate me.”

 

“I…oh, sorry, Mother, I never thought of it that way.”

 

“I’m teasing you, sweetness.” Harry laughed. “We’re all family here. Besides, it is not as if there were no witnesses to the stumbling as I arrived. The streets were full, after all.”

 

Rhaegar moved then, standing up from his crouched position and he instead sat next to Harry, they automatically moved closer to one another, leaning into the other without thinking of such as they both rested on the other, such was the closeness and intimacy of their bond of love.

Harry closed his eyes, finally feeling at ease, at peace, now that he had seen Rhaegar with his own eyes. It was never quite enough, to be told that someone was fine, as opposed to seeing that they were fine with your own eyes. Sometimes it just wasn’t enough to be told something, you had to see it for yourself. He sighed happily and snuggled into his husband more, getting a tender kiss to his temple as Rhaegar wrapped his large arms around him tightly.

 

“Are we going straight back to Kings Landing?” Rhaegar asked. “I would have you see Grand Maester Gormon, just to be sure.”

 

“We are not leaving our children at Summerhall.” Harry said sternly.

 

“You are in no state to go to Summerhall and then travel by horse to Kings Landing.” Rhaegar told him firmly.

 

“Your Grace, perhaps we could escort the Princes and Princesses home.” Ser Barristan immediately jumped in to calm the waters of a brewing argument…he had had plenty of practice over the years, both in recognising the start of an argument, and of what to say to quell it.

 

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaegar said graciously. “I wish to take Haradarian home, so that he can rest properly.”

 

“Oh, as I’m sure that you’ve been resting properly yourself.” Harry quipped back. “If I’m being forced to rest when I’m uninjured, you certainly will be, as injured as you are.”

 

“Someone has to rule the Seven Kingdoms and I would have you rest!” Rhaegar insisted.

 

“If I am to rest, so are you.” Harry said stubbornly. “Rhaegon is technically still the King. He can carry on ruling in our place for a while longer, if anything it will teach him that being a King is not all wars and exacting justice. It’s boring and relentless too.”

 

“I already know that.” Rhaegon insisted.

 

“Oh, you don’t.” Harry smiled at his son kindly. “You have no idea, not yet, but you’ll see. Now, how is Daenerys? No one has mentioned her yet, is she well?”

 

“She had her babe, Your Grace.” Ser Oswell told him with a gentle smile at the thought of what would be his great-nephew’s child. “A boy. She has called him Jaerys. Both mother and son are doing very well, but Oslyn stopped her from travelling, both when you went missing and when His Grace, Rhaegar was injured and brought back to Kings Landing. He would have stopped her from travelling when the raven reached Harrenhal of your arrival here too. It is one of the only times that I have heard of him being stern with her.”

 

“Stern for her own good.” Harry nodded approvingly. “I would have been furious if she had risked herself or her babe to come to see me. I will go and see her…when I am able!” He rose his voice above Rhaegar’s automatic protest.

 

Rhaegar shut his mouth and Harry smirked at him, he got a harsh kiss for it and he laughed as soon as his mouth was released.

 

“Perhaps it’ll be good for us to both be on rest and confined to our bed.” He said sultrily. Immediately several shouts of disgust and horror were echoed around the room. “Oh please! How do you think you were all conceived?” He laughed.

 

“We don’t want to hear of such things in detail, Mother!” Baelon insisted in a disgusted horror.

 

“In detail? Baelon, if that was detailed then I would hate to see the state of your reports for Summerhall.” Rhaegar stated seriously.

 

Harry laughed harder at that before planting a kiss to Rhaegar’s jaw, it was rough with a few days growth of silvery hairs. Harry looked closer, just barely being able to see them. His eyes narrowed immediately.

 

“Why are you not clean shaven?” He demanded of his husband.

 

“Perhaps I would look good with a beard.” Rhaegar said back.

 

“Perhaps you would look like an old beggar!” Harry said. “Go and shave, right now, Rhaegar!” He insisted firmly.

 

“Alright.” Rhaegar laughed, giving him a last kiss before standing and going to a wash room, where he would find a razor and a servant to tend to him. Ser Arthur automatically turned and followed him out of the room and down the hall.

 

“Mother, why do you or Father never grow beards?” Helaena asked consideringly. “I do not think I have ever seen either of you with more than a few days growth upon your chins.”

 

Harry sighed. “It reminds me of your Grandfather, Aerys.”

 

“The Mad King.” Baelon whispered, all of them knowing all too well what their Grandfather had been like from their history lessons with their Maester.

 

“Rhaegar in particular would end up looking a lot like him if he started wearing a beard and I could not…I could not even look upon him if he did. I loved my Father, I loved him so much only to have that love thrown back at me and my very life threatened. In the end I grew to hate him. I hated him as fiercely as I’d loved him as a boy and when I declared myself King of the Seven Kingdoms and I went unchallenged, he tried to kill me as I strategised the war. As I directed the armies and kept safe the Capital, he skulked around the Red Keep and he tried to set me on fire and when that failed, he stabbed me in the back with a pilfered kitchen knife, I who was unarmed and six turns pregnant with Baelon. Not that he knew that I was pregnant, of course, everyone just believed me very fat and lazy.” He smiled, sending a look to his own Kingsguard, to Ser Oswell and to Ser Barristan, who would never admit to such thoughts, but Harry knew. He had known when he was pregnant with Haeraenya and Helaena what people had thought of him, the same when he had fallen pregnant with Baelon. He did not begrudge them their thoughts while ignorant of the real reason for his substantial weight gain.

 

“We could have lost him.” Helaena fretted, moving to place a hand on her blond brother’s arm.

 

“We could have, several times. Pregnancies in wartimes are often lost.” Harry said gently. “But I was not about to let my little boy give up.” He smiled. “Nor was I ever going to give up on him. Baelon survived all that happened to me while pregnant, all the stress I put upon him in the womb, and he was born perfect. But when Jaime Lannister killed your Grandfather, Rhaegar and I…we were in two minds. On the one hand there was anger and grief, that he had been slain like cattle by a member of the Kingsguard. On the other was…was…”

 

“Relief.” Rhaegar’s voice carried over to them as he re-entered the room. “Sheer, all-encompassing relief.”

 

Harry nodded and he sighed. “It sounds terrible to be relieved that he was dead, but though we would have never done so ourselves, his death freed us in a way that we had never felt the like of before.”

 

“We were much safer, our children were much safer, with him dead and with ourselves on the Iron Throne.” Rhaegar said as he sat next to Harry again, who couldn’t resist reaching over and feeling the fresh, clean shaven skin. “We were freed from the fear of what he would do to us, to our babes, if he found out about our marriage and the truth of your Mother’s ability to carry and birth you all.”

 

Rhaegar turned and smiled at him, taking his hands, that had been rubbing his face, before he kissed them and held them.

 

“He already wanted to kill me because of my black hair.” Harry sighed. “He believed your Grandmother to have been unfaithful, especially when Viserys was born silver haired and purple eyed. When his mind started to wane, after the Defiance of Duskendale, he wanted to have me burnt alive on the steps of the Great Sept, to prove to all men and the gods, that he rejected me fully. To hear such a thing broke my heart. To think that my own Father hated me so much as to want to burn me alive on public display.”

 

“I was not about to allow such a thing to come about.” Rhaegar said firmly, his teeth gritted at remembered memories that were very painful to recall. “You know that after your Mother returned from Oldtown that we married one another in the godswood and then sailed for Dragonstone.”

 

“I was conceived there.” Rhaegon said with a nod.

 

“No, you were born there.” Harry corrected. “You were conceived in Volantis.”

 

“Are you sure that it was not in Lys or Myr?” Rhaegar teased. “Or perhaps Pentos.”

 

“He was conceived, Rhaegar my love, in Volantis.” Harry said, his voice lowered dangerously. “It was too late to have been in Pentos, and we went to Myr and then Lys, after I was already pregnant. It was the first time that we were in Volantis, where we had docked our ship.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled. “I know, my love, I just enjoy teasing you. But after we sailed to Dragonstone, and then to the free cities of Essos, and had had our Rhaegon, we needed to come back, we couldn’t hide away for any longer.”

 

“You were going to Harrenhal to set up a Great council, only Grandfather heard about it and he suddenly came with you.” Baelon said.

 

Harry nodded. “We could not go through with the Great council with him in attendance, it was just too dangerous and we worried about the motive of his sudden desire to come with us. We had Rhaegon at that time, we refused to risk him.”

 

“You found out that you were pregnant with Haeraenya and Helaena at Harrenhal.” Rhaegar recalled fondly.

 

“Though naturally we could not have possibly guessed that I was carrying two of you.” Harry said with a smile directed at Helaena.

 

“We wanted to surprise you, Mother.” She giggled lightly.

 

“Surprise us you did, love!” Rhaegar laughed. “Your Mother panicked and then when he pulled you out after your sister, I panicked.”

 

“We’re you any better with Aenys and Aerin?” Baelon asked curiously.

 

Harry and Rhaegar shared a look and then they both laughed.

 

“No.” Harry finally answered. “I pulled out Aenys, but I’d grabbed Aerin’s arm too without realising, Rhaegar thought that the baby had three arms and two heads and he started yelling and shouting, panicking me I might add, before Grand Maester Gormon thankfully pushed him out of the way and pulled out Aenys and then Aerin afterwards. I saw the funny side once I had recovered and had slept for a few days, but I was in far too much pain during to find anything funny and naturally my husband screaming and panicking as I tried to deliver my babe frightened the seven hells out of me.”

 

“Were you any better with Aelinor and Aelora?” Rhaegon asked with a frown.

 

“Love, we weren’t any better when we had Aenar and Aeron.” Harry laughed.

 

“Though we did know with Maelor and Maella that they were twins before they were born.” Rhaegar conceded.

 

“The both of them liked kicking at the same time. It was a little difficult to ignore that I was pregnant with two babes when I had eight limbs beating my insides at the same time. There were times when your Father was utterly convinced that I was carrying three babes!”

 

“No other set of twins did the same?” Helaena asked curiously.

 

Harry shook his head. “No. Not that I noticed. I only noticed with Maelor and Maella, so we knew to prepare for twins, though after you girls, we always made sure to prepare for twins, just in case. After all, as I reasoned, if it could happen once, it could happen again. So we had Valarr and he was so easy compared to the rest of you.”

 

“It was because he was smaller, wasn’t it?” Rhaegon asked, frowning as if recalling a distant memory. Harry had said before that Valarr had been born the smallest.

 

“That’s right.” Rhaegar said. “Valarr was the smallest, then Naerys and then Baelon.”

 

“Baelon was affected by the war, though.” Harry said. “So he was an exception.”

 

“All of your single babes were smaller than your twins, Mother, should it not have been that they were bigger?” Helaena asked.

 

Harry smiled sadly. “I had more difficulties with my single babes, Helaena. Rhaegon was my first ever babe, so we could expect that he’d be smaller as I was unused to carrying. Baelon was conceived and carried through a war and I was very stressed and under a lot of pressure at the time. I was very sick when I was carrying Naerys and I was confined to my bed for four turns while pregnant with her through fever. Your Father feared that he’d lose us both. It was why there is rather a large gap between her and Aenar and Aeron. Rhaegar was too afraid to try for another babe afterward seeing me in such a state during pregnancy.”

 

“And Valarr?”

 

Harry and Rhaegar shared a look. Harry grimaced.

 

“Valarr is just a rather small boy.” He said. “I wasn’t overly sick with him, nor were we at war, though we had some pressures from the smallfolk at that time. There was a shortage of fish that year and they blamed the dragons.”

 

“Truly, why?” Rhaegon actually laughed.

 

“Everything that went wrong back then was the fault of the dragons.” Harry waved away. “Crop failure, receding rivers, the death of a tavern owner’s infant son in the womb, missing livestock, and the fish shortage, all the fault of our seven dragons of that time, particularly Balerion as he was visibly the largest.”

 

“So…Valarr was just special from the beginning?” Baelon grinned.

 

“All of you are special.” Harry refuted immediately.

 

“Valarr is just a little more special than the rest of you.” Rhaegar added with a chuckle. Harry slapped his thigh.

 

“I remember Aenar and Aeron being tiny though, Mother.” Helaena said with a frown.

 

“They were tiny, love, but you were not old enough to see how very small Valarr was. He was born very early and Grand Maester Gormon barely kept him alive. There were times when we believed that we would lose him.”

 

“Is that why you coddled him?” Rhaegon asked. “I remember trying to play with Valarr as I did Baelon, Aenys and Aerin. Valarr was only a year younger, but I wasn’t allowed to play with him.”

 

“We were very worried for him. It was nothing that you were doing wrong, Rhaegon.” Rhaegar insisted. “We just lost our heads after we had our tiny Valarr and he was always smaller and weaker than the rest of you.”

 

“He was always sick as a young child.” Helaena said with a thoughtful frown.

 

“Every fever and ailment that was going around always hit Valarr hard. As soon as Summerhall was built, we went and stayed there for two years, taking it in turns to run the realm while the other stayed with Valarr at Summerhall.”

 

“I remember that.” Rhaegon nodded.

 

“As you should, you were eight years old.”  Rhaegar teased.

 

“The cleaner air of Summerhall seemed to do Valarr so much good that we were loath to ever take him back to Kings Landing, but as he got older, he stopped getting sick so often and he was able to come back and forth with us.”

 

“He stays at Summerhall with me often.” Baelon said.

 

Harry nodded. “It makes him stronger and keeps him healthier. He never gets sick when he’s at Summerhall and now that he’s older, he can stay there without either one of us needing to stay with him. It was the best decision we ever made to rebuild Summerhall, even if your Father does miss his ruins.”

 

Rhaegar dug gentle fingers into Harry’s waist, startling a laugh from his husband and set him off squirming.

 

“It was the best decision _you_ had made, my love.” Rhaegar corrected. “It was your idea to rebuild Summerhall as a palace for the dragons, we had no idea that it would do such good for Valarr too, not at that time as he was not even born, but it was a good thing in the end as it made him stronger and healthier.”

 

Harry yawned and immediately his eyelids dropped a little, his shoulders sagging and he rested himself on Rhaegar.

 

“You need your rest.” Rhaegar insisted firmly.

 

Harry nodded, not arguing as he was held tighter and more securely by Rhaegar, who laid himself down on the settee and pulled Harry down with him. Everything was quiet, no one said anything, and Harry drifted in and out of sleep easily, his thoughts coming and going, still exhausted from his three week walk from Oldtown to Highgarden, but seeing his husband again had been amazing, knowing that he truly was alright after being shot with two arrows, it was a huge weight off of his shoulders and a worry taken from his heart. He felt so much better being wrapped up in Rhaegar’s strong arms, a small selection of his children around him. He would naturally want to see all of his babes again, particularly Aenar, who was once again under Valarr’s protection while Baelon was here, and Aenys and Aerin were still at Kings Landing, having not had access to a dragon to ride.

He didn’t like that he was being forced to fly to Kings Landing immediately, when all he wanted to do was to fly to Summerhall to see his babes, to fly to Harrenhal to personally check on Daenerys and her new babe, Jaerys, to make sure that they were truly alright. He was not going to be given the option, however. Rhaegar would strong arm him onto Balerion, much like Viserys had done to him at Oldtown, and they would fly to Kings Landing while their Kingsguard went to Summerhall and took two weeks to ride their children back to Kings Landing on strong, swift horses. He would see them soon, but it wouldn’t nearly be soon enough. Not for his liking.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

The wait had been as long and as painful as Harry had been imagining. Only it was worse as Rhaegar refused to allow him to get up from their bed. No one could see him except by leave of Rhaegar himself, he had a handpicked team of three servants that looked after his daily needs and of course Rhaegar stayed with him as often as he could and he took all of his meals with Harry, who currently had a tray over his lap so that he could eat his supper, as he was still not allowed to get up.  
Tomorrow Rhaegar told him, as he had presented Harry with his supper tray and a beautiful bouquet of red dragon’s breath flowers that he had picked himself from the godswood, as he knew that they were Harry’s favourites. Harry knew that tomorrow the children would be arriving back from Summerhall and as he ate his supper without complaint, a simple broth of chicken and vegetables, his anticipation grew. It had been two and a half weeks since he had been reunited with Rhaegar at Highgarden and he was so excited to see his babes again. There would be no one left at Summerhall, only the household guards and servants, as his children were all coming to Kings Landing. Though Rhaegon, Aenys and Aerin had barely left him alone since he’d come back, reading to him as he rested, bringing simple work to him that Rhaegar had delegated to him, judging it to be easy enough for him to do without taxing him, or without him needing to get up…Harry judged it very dull and boring, but having his oldest son and his oldest twin sons with him helped to break up the monotony, though Rhaegon was more often than not very busy, as he was still the acting King of the Seven Kingdoms while he and Rhaegar recovered from their horrifying ordeal.

His twins though, they had become his own permanent shadows and he looked to them now, sniggering at the small square table that was in his and Rhaegar’s bedchambers, while Rhaegar himself sat next to Harry in the bed, hovering over him as he ate.

 

“What has amused you both so much?” Harry asked with a knowing look to his twins, who looked up guiltily at being caught in whatever mischief they had been up to.

 

“I…it’s nothing, Mother.” Aerin said quickly…far too quickly in his opinion and Harry smirked.

 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the beautiful new stable boy, would it?” Harry said casually. He knew he was right when Aerin went bright red and Aenys started laughing. “Just don’t get caught fucking him on the small council table, this time, Aerin.” Harry teased. “Your Father and I used to change your small clothes, but we haven’t seen that part of you in a very long time. We have no wish to see that part of you again either.”

 

Rhaegar snorted in laughter and he almost choked.

 

“I said that I was sorry.” Aerin muttered.

 

“Just…take your boys back to your bedchambers, alright?” Harry said calmly. “Any fucking you do is easier concealed there…and won’t have me clawing out my own eyes while innocently going to a small council meeting. I thought that poor Ser Barristan was going to keel over in shock.”

 

Rhaegar did laugh then, along with Aenys, while Aerin’s ears coloured up as well as his neck and cheeks.

 

“I was younger then.”

 

“All of two years.” Rhaegar snorted.

 

“I am one-and-twenty now!” Aerin insisted. “I know how to be more discreet.”

 

“You were caught in the godswood with that poor boy not a year ago!” Harry pointed out.

 

“I know better now!” Their embarrassed son said more firmly.

 

“I am glad to hear of such things.” Harry teased. “Shall we assume from your sniggering that you have already had the stable boy? Are you keeping him? We could have him become your personal servant if you wished.”

 

“You…you would?” Aerin asked, looking between his parents.

 

“If it is what you want.” Rhaegar nodded.

 

“I do. I like him and he likes me too.”

 

“Of course he does, you’re a Prince.” Harry pointed out.

 

“No. No, Mother, he didn’t know that I was a Prince at first.”

 

“No person in the Seven Kingdoms has purple eyes, Aerin.” Rhaegar said. “Only the Daynes and us Targaryens.”

 

“Well, some of us Targaryens.” Harry amended with a gentle nudge to his husband. “But you took your Father’s purple eyes, Aerin. There is no way that this boy didn’t know who you were, even if he claims ignorance, though it is sweet of him to try…or perhaps underhanded, I’d have to meet him to know which.”

 

“I’d blindfolded him, Mother.” Aenys said firmly. “I’d wagered that he couldn’t find his way back to Maegor’s Holdfast if I blindfolded him and led him to a place he couldn’t see. I left him there and went back to the Holdfast to await him, after binding his arms behind his back to ensure that he couldn’t just take the blindfold off himself.”

 

“What were you thinking?!” Harry demanded, his heart in his throat. “He could have been killed! He could have tripped over a wall and fallen to his death! Someone could have taken him, anything could have happened to him! Why would you do this?!”

 

His twins immediately ducked their heads and Harry tried to calm down, he tried to tell himself that nothing had happened as both boys were sat in front of him, perfectly fine and well.

 

“It was still a very stupid thing to do, especially as you knew that we were in a quarrel with the Maesters and Archmaesters of Oldtown. Hundreds of people a day come to Kings Landing, people who we don’t know and could easily be a cutthroat or a kidnapper, we have always told you to keep your eyes open and your wits about you when down in the city. Do not do something like this again.” Rhaegar said sternly.

 

Both boys nodded quickly, grateful that they were getting away with just a telling off and nothing more.

 

“So can I assume that you did not know your way back to Maegor’s Holdfast and you stumbled into the stables?” Harry asked, a little calmer now. Aerin nodded.

 

“His name is Lanoha. I call him Noha. He tried to help me, but Aenys had tied the bindings too tightly and thus I was stuck. Noha stayed with me, talking to me. I really liked the sound of his voice and…and I…”

 

“You told him so, didn’t you?” Harry said, very amused.

 

Aerin nodded and then blushed. “He said he liked the shape of my mouth and I knew then that he was like me, that he _liked_ me without knowing who I actually was.”

 

“Were you wearing any finery?” Rhaegar asked suddenly.

 

“No, Father. We weren’t quite that stupid.” Aerin defended. “I was in roughspun clothing with no jewels or anything. I had a dagger on my hip though, the plain one, it was just a simple dagger in a plain scabbard.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “You kissed the boy, there and then, didn’t you?”

 

Aerin nodded with a goofy smile. “His lips were so soft.”

 

“That is too much information to share with your parents.” Harry complained. “So when did he know that you were a Prince?”

 

“When he finally got my arms free and I yanked off the blindfold. He hadn’t wanted to do it as the tie was caught in my hair. He was very shocked and he stumbled over himself to apologise. He actually started crying and I didn’t like that at all.”

 

“He thought that you’d done as you had on purpose, to trick him, or to test his reaction because he was new and he thought that he was going to be punished for his candid manner.”

 

Aerin nodded. “He thought I was going to have him flogged! I couldn’t believe that he would think as such of any of my family, let alone me, but I understood his fear.”  

 

Harry sighed. “Is he happy with you now? And do you want to keep him for longer than a turn?”

 

“It has already been five turns.” Aenys grinned.

 

“Truly?” Harry asked with a smile. “You must really like him, Aerin.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then we’ll have him transferred from the stables to your rooms as your personal servant, but in truth he’ll be your paramour. Treat him well.”

 

“Oh, he already does that.” Aenys teased.

 

Rhaegar snorted and shook his head. “Well it’s about time that you found someone to truly love and not just to fuck around with, Aerin.”

 

“Hopefully now we won’t be running in on you bending the poor servants or porters over any tables.”

 

Aenys laughed and Aerin groaned, dropping his head to his hands.

 

“Off with you both now, go on.” Harry chided. “Aerin, go and give Noha the good news that he’s to be promoted, just try not to make too much noise, especially tomorrow, when the Kingsguard come back, you know they so like bursting in on people who are having fun. I’m sure they do it on purpose.”

 

Rhaegar snorted. “They wouldn’t do so if you weren’t so very loud, my love.”

 

Aenys and Aerin made sickened noises and hurried out of the room at a faster pace, leaving their parents behind, laughing happily.

 

“I love you so very much.” Rhaegar said softly.

 

“I’d love you a little more if you hadn’t kept me confined to our bed like a prisoner.” Harry declared with no heat and no bite.

 

“Tomorrow, Harry, my love. Tomorrow you can get back up, fully recovered, to tackle our entire horde of babes, until then…why don’t we enjoy ourselves, one last time before we will have no time to do so?”

 

Harry chuckled. “No children, no Kingsguard to come running, the Grand Maester insisting that I am well and recovered, yet you still keeping me in bed…I knew there had to be a reason for it.”

 

Rhaegar turned and laid over him, avoiding the supper tray, and kissing him hard. “I love you, be as loud as you want to be tonight, my love. I want to hear you properly.”

 

“Then you’d better do a proper job, my love. If you want my noise, you’d better do something to cause it.”

 

Rhaegar’s eyes glinted with the challenge and he moved again, taking the tray from over his lap and placing it on the floor instead. Harry made sure to pick up the beautiful bouquet of flowers, bringing them to his nose to inhale their sweet scent deeply, before he rolled over a little to place them carefully on the bedside table before laying himself back down on the bed. Rhaegar came back to him, only this time he lay flat over him, so their bodies were pressed tightly together.

Rhaegar lightly brushed his knuckles against Harry’s jaw and cheek and they smiled at one another.

 

“I love you so much.”

 

Harry smiled at the repeated words. “My brother, my husband.” Harry declared proudly.

 

Rhaegar kissed him hard and Harry’s hands fisted into silver hair, pulling gently, even as he rocked his hips up, kissing Rhaegar back harder, pushing his tongue into Rhaegar’s mouth. Rhaegar made a soft, passionate noise and he cradled Harry’s head, lifting it slightly to get a better angle so that he could force Harry’s tongue back into his own mouth, his tongue following to taste him, to arouse him, before pulling back for air.

 

“It has been a long time.” Harry chuckled. “We took that break at Summerhall to relax with one another, but we had so very little peace there, then we were worried when Aelyx went missing. It seems that we barely had a moment to ourselves.”

 

“Now we do.” Rhaegar said, looking down at him with love.

 

“It truly will be a mere moment too.” Harry laughed.

 

Rhaegar grinned. “Very soon they’ll all be spread out, off having adventures or doing their own thing and we will be here, all alone, to do as we please, all day, every day.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Only when we pass the crown to our Rhaegon.”

 

“He truly has proven himself now, to us and to the Seven Kingdoms. He is going to be a very adept King and he’ll be as fair and just as we have been ourselves, we taught him well.”

 

“Perhaps when he is thirty then.” Harry said with a grin. “You’ll be two-and-fifty and I’ll be your age now at nearing fifty. It’s as good an age as any to retire from public grievances.”

 

“Five-and-thirty.” Rhaegar insisted. “If he seems ready.”

 

Harry chuckled and then nodded. He reached up and kissed him hard. “Enough talk about this now, we have all day tomorrow to talk about it. Tonight I want your attentions upon me.”

 

“As you wish.” Rhaegar grinned, bending down and stealing his mouth once more with an impassioned kiss.

 

Harry moved against Rhaegar, but eventually the blankets and the clothes that they were both wearing became very restricting and frustrating.

 

“There are too many clothes, Rhaegar.” Harry complained.

 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Rhaegar smiled down at him, moving away and tugging off the heavy blankets that were stifling Harry and making him sweat.

 

Harry took a moment to just breathe, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took in the sensations of having Rhaegar once again in his arms, and in his bed, touching him, kissing him. It felt truly wonderful after their last parting.

They were both feeling rather desperate, recalling the look that they’d given to one another as Rhaegar was forced away on the back of Viserion, leaving Harry behind in Oldtown alone with no protection and no men.

 

“I love you.” Rhaegar declared as he removed Harry’s loose sleeping tunic, kissing up his chest, towards his neck.

 

“Let us never be parted in such a way ever again, Rhaegar. We are not getting any younger. We’re not the fit, spry boys of our youth. We’re getting old. Let us leave these wars to our sons, to the young warriors of the Seven Kingdoms who can fight so fiercely while half asleep even. I never want to go through anything like this ever again.”

 

“I agree.” Rhaegar said easily, looking down upon him and touching his face again with the barest brush of his knuckles.

 

Harry reached up and he pulled his husband down into a kiss, prodding his tongue into Rhaegar’s mouth easily as his husband had been laughing at his frantic boldness.

Rhaegar pulled out of the kiss to tug off his own tunic and then his breeches as quickly as he could. Harry was thankful that he himself had been on bed rest and had only been in a sleeping tunic as he stroked himself languidly, watching Rhaegar undress.

 

“I do love when you do that.” Rhaegar told him.

 

“Take care of myself?” Harry asked coyly.

 

“Do I ever leave you alone to take care of yourself?”

 

“Do you ever just leave me alone?” Harry quipped back with a grin.

 

“I am afraid that I just can’t leave you alone. You are much too tempting.”

 

“Tempting enough to get you to stop talking and come to take care of me yourself?”

 

“Always, Harry.” Rhaegar chuckled, moving to lay back in the large bed with him, shuffling on his knees to reach out for him, where he was still laying against the pillows, one hand lazily stroking himself.

 

Rhaegar pulled his hand from himself and bent right down to suck Harry into his mouth. Harry groaned happily at the warm, wet pleasure and he rolled his hips slightly to encourage Rhaegar to bob his head.

Much to Harry’s vocal displeasure, Rhaegar moved off of his cock altogether.

 

“Calm yourself.” Rhaegar laughed at him. “I’m getting the animal fat so that I can do a proper job of it.”

 

That had the opposite effect of calming him down and instead he got more excited. He always did when Rhaegar brought out the jar of animal fat that they kept on their bedside table. That or when he smelt the lemon oil, he even got hard when he took a bath now, he had done so since his early twenties. He was so accustomed to smelling lemon oil before sex that he had come to associate the smell of it with the act itself, even when simply taking a bath. It was the same with the animal fat, he only had to look at the jar and he would remember Rhaegar’s mouth closing tight around him and his body would tingle with desire and he would start getting aroused.  

 

“You look about ready to orgasm and I haven’t even done anything yet.” Rhaegar teased him.

 

“You don’t need too.” Harry chuckled. “The sight of that jar, or the smell of the lemon oil, and that is enough these days.”

 

Rhaegar smirked, of course he already knew as such, Harry had told him numerous times before of the effect both items now had on him, and Rhaegar very much enjoyed that small amount of additional power.

He never teased him too much with it, however, especially not when they had both been on medical bed rest for so long. They were both men, and they both had their desires and cravings and those would need to be sated soon. This was not the time for such teasing play. They were no longer mere boys who recovered in the blink of an eye, ready for another round before their seed had even cooled on their bellies…or up Harry’s arse, as was the usual routine of things.

When Rhaegar dipped three fingers into the animal fat and held it for a moment, Harry started breathing harder in anticipation as his husband curled his fingers into his palm to coat his hand before taking a firm hold of Harry’s cock and pulling on it, stroking up and down to cover it in the partially warmed, semi-liquid fat.

Rhaegar’s hand slid from the tip of him and a moment later his mouth slid down and it was truly blissful to Harry, whose head dropped backwards onto the feather pillows with a pleasured groan.

 

“I love your mouth.” He declared raggedly, stroking fingers through Rhaegar’s silver hair, his hips rolling up into his husband’s mouth more easily as he planted his feet flat to the bed, his knees tucking into Rhaegar’s sides.

 

Rhaegar’s reply was non-verbal, but he sucked hard at Harry’s tip and then plunged down all the way to his base, his tongue sliding along the underside of him in such a way that rolled Harry’s eyes up into his head, making him groan louder and tug on that silver hair a little harder.

Fingers stroked his inside thigh, slowly, moving downward towards his hole, before at the last moment they slipped higher, rolling one of his balls instead and then moving to the other, making him cry out. A sharp tug on that one ball had him gasping and had his hips thrusting up, pushing himself down Rhaegar’s throat. His husband gagged a little and pulled back enough to suck in some air before pushing back down on him and Harry squirmed, unable to keep still.

 

“Enough! Enough, Rhaegar, I can’t take much more. I’ll cum down your throat.”

 

“I curse the day that we started aging so much, we used to be able to fuck several times a night and not even break a sweat.” Rhaegar lamented after he’d freed Harry from his mouth, wiping his chin nonchalantly.

 

“At least we can still sleep in one another’s arms as easily as we used to.” Harry smiled, his cheeks flushed with arousal.

 

“There will always be that.” Rhaegar said, moving to the bedside table once more and snatching the vial of lemon oil.

 

Harry only had to smell a slight waft of lemons and his cock gave a strong throb. He let out a shaky breath and watched Rhaegar’s movements critically as he dipped his fingers into the oil before immediately moving to touch Harry’s hole.

 

“Oh. Please, Rhaegar. It has been so long.” He complained, screwing his eyes closed as those fingers rubbed and teased him. “I’ve missed you, my love.”

 

Harry was kissed and his eyes snapped open to look into purple eyes, right before a finger gently eased into him and his eyes closed once more. He couldn’t focus with so many things going on and his mouth went lax and pliant, even as Rhaegar groaned and kissed him harder, the single finger twisting inside him to lightly touch his insides. He pressed around, seeking, seeking, until with a soft cry from Harry, he knew he’d touched the right place, and sure enough, he felt the small, rounded lump and he smirked, rolling his finger over that lump mercilessly, stopping for several moments to allow Harry to calm down and catch his breath once more, then rubbing back over that lump again, working him back up.

 

“Rhaegar!” Harry screamed. “I don’t have it in me to have two orgasms back to back any more. Stop torturing me and give me what I truly want, what we both need.”

 

Rhaegar laughed happily, smugly, as he pulled back and kissed him.

 

“Harry, I love you now more than ever.”

 

Harry rolled underneath Rhaegar, pushing his hips up desperately, trying to draw attention to his aching cock.

Rhaegar seemed content to ignore it, and his plight, however and he instead nuzzled into his neck and nipped at it gently with his teeth.

 

“Rhaegar.” Harry groaned raggedly. “It has been too long for you to tease me like this.”

 

“Alright.” Rhaegar laughed, sitting back up and grasping the vial of lemon oil again, dipping his fingers into it once again and then stroking himself.

 

He used the excess oil to press two fingers back into Harry’s hole, stretching him and testing the resistance, breathing heavily himself in anticipation. He found minimal resistance from Harry’s muscles and he kissed him again, several times, as he slid his fingers free and then lined up his cock. He had missed Harry greatly, and now that they were both healed and allowed off of their respective bed rests, as per Grand Maester Gormon’s own words, it was time for them to re-establish their physical bond with one another.

  

“Oh fuck, I love you.” Harry groaned, bearing down on Rhaegar as his husband slid into him slowly and carefully, just in case.

 

“I love you too, you feel wonderful around me. Are you well?”

 

“Yes.” Harry grunted as Rhaegar reached as far into his body as he could, holding still and letting them both adjust.

 

Rhaegar flexed his hips, pressing in hard for a moment before easing off. He did this a few times, testing Harry’s reaction and when all he got were groans and whimpers, he carefully slid himself out and held for a moment, then he pushed back inside slowly.

Harry’s head fell back on a moan and his breathing picked up a pace.

 

“That feels amazing.” Harry praised.

 

Rhaegar smiled smugly down at him, before moving himself a little faster, testing, always watching Harry’s expression, his reaction, and when he saw nothing but pleasure, that was when he relaxed himself and started seeking his own pleasure, now assured that Harry wasn’t in any pain or discomfort.

He groaned as Harry randomly clenched around his cock, squeezing him, bringing him closer to the precipice. It had been a while for him too, with his worry over Harry’s absence and his own injuries preventing much movement, he hadn’t even been able to touch himself…not that he had even wanted to while he had believed Harry to be a captive once more.

 

“Please.” Harry begged, breaking him from his darkening thoughts and bringing him back to the present, to Harry in his arms, to their bodies touching from head to foot.

 

Harry’s hands moved from Rhaegar’s silver-blond hair to his shoulders, small, neatly cut nails digging into his skin and leaving their marks.

 

“Are you close?” Rhaegar asked raggedly.

 

Harry just nodded, his eyes closed and his mouth open, squeezing him with his legs about his waist. Rhaegar was very glad that Harry was close, because he was too and he didn’t know if he could control himself and stave off his orgasm for much longer.

He reached down and he encountered Harry’s hand…Harry had been stroking himself. He managed a weak, strained chuckle, but he covered Harry’s hand with his own and he moved it quicker, squeezed tighter and Harry moaned louder, throwing his head to the side and clenching his legs and his inside muscles in response.

 

“Oh, seven hells.” Rhaegar cursed, pushing harder and thrusting quicker, chasing his pleasure now, but trying to force Harry over the edge too.

 

“Rhaegar!” Harry screamed suddenly and he clenched so tightly that Rhaegar saw bright spots, even as Harry wetted his hand with his seed.

 

He did not last any longer than that. Seeing those glassy green eyes, half lidded, staring up at him, that pink mouth curled in sated satisfaction, his cheeks reddened…Rhaegar had never met another who looked more beautiful to him than Harry, he had never met anyone who could enflame his heart and his passions more than the man he had married, he would never love anyone more than the man currently lying underneath him. Harry meant everything and more to him and he always had in one way or another.

Rhaegar let out a grunt and he held Harry tight to his body as he reached his own orgasm, choking out Harry’s name, feeling small fingers playing with his hair and the back of his neck. He shuddered and jerked, before he rested himself down on Harry’s body, holding him and trying to control his breathing.

 

“That was wonderful.” Harry sighed happily.

 

“It always is with you.” Rhaegar chuckled, his voice gruff and raspy.

 

“I love you so much, Rhaegar. We need to stop taking so many risks. I don’t think I can handle any more of this sort of stress.” Harry managed to say before yawning widely, not even bothering to politely cover his mouth as his hands remained in silver-blond hair.

 

“Get some sleep, my love. We’ll talk more in the morning, when the kids are home and have had their fill of seeing you.”

 

Harry hummed and turned to lay more against Rhaegar, who had moved off of him and to the side, tugging the heavy blankets over them to stave off the coming night chill as he’d done so. Harry slid against sweaty skin and he yawned again, his eyes watering.

Rhaegar watched as Harry slipped slowly off to sleep in his arms, his hand against Harry’s back, rubbing in soothing circles. It eased something within him to have Harry back in his arms, back to sleeping beside him every night. He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head and he settled himself down to sleep too. He was never, ever letting Harry out of his sight, if not his arms, ever again. Too many times over the years he had come too close to losing him forever, this last incident was just one too many and he was terrified of losing Harry. Perhaps it _was_ time to hand everything over to Rhaegon. If anything it would save his heart from pain, or the possibility of bursting from his chest.

He sighed and pulled Harry in tighter to his body, smiling at the small grunt that Harry emitted in his sleep. He tucked the blanket around Harry more securely and he eventually stopped worrying long enough, and he relaxed himself enough, to finally drift off to sleep too. Tomorrow their small respite of peace would be broken and things would go back to their hectic normality. He was very glad that they had had this one, small moment to themselves first, it would go a long way to settling them both down once more.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Harry smiled in joy as he was embraced by several children. Naerys’ long, silver hair getting in his mouth, tall Maelor who looked his image was stood behind him, tiny little Aenar and Aeron down by his chest.

 

“I’m alright.” He told them all, the Maester in him digging out Aenar and turning him to protect his broken arm.

 

“Ser Barristan said that you had _walked_ all the way to Highgarden, Mother!” Maella said fretfully.

 

“That’s right, sweetness.” Harry said gently, finding her in the mass of bodies and pulling her head to his lips. “I could not stay in Oldtown, so I escaped the city and walked to Highgarden.”

 

“You could have died, Mother.” Aeron warbled and Harry was devastated to see that he was in tears.

 

“Oh, come here.” Harry stepped from the circle of his babes and he picked up his youngest child. The youngest one he’d ever have now. He settled Aeron on his hip and hugged him tight. “I’m fine, Aeron, I promise. I was not hurt.”

 

“But what if you had been?” He stressed. “What if they’d found you and hurt you?”

 

“Well they didn’t, my sweet boy and now they can never harm anyone ever again. Your brother had them all put to the King’s justice.”

 

“What if one of them still lives?” Aenar asked, just as worriedly.

 

“I watched as every single one of them were charged and executed, Aenar.” Rhaegon said gently. “None of them are still alive.”

 

“But…how can you be so sure, Rhaegon?” Aeron asked insistently.

 

“A man cannot live without his head, tiny.” Rhaegon replied easily.

 

“Oh.” Aeron blinked a little. “So Mother is safe?”

 

“Very safe.”

 

“Good!” Aeron declared firmly, planting a kiss to his Mother’s cheek.

 

Harry placed him back down on his feet and then sat down. “Aenar, come here, let me check you over.”

 

The slim eight year old came to him, his bound arm already held out for inspection.

 

“I did my best.” Valarr said worriedly. “But I don’t think I tied it tightly enough, Aenar kept complaining of pain and he said that it was itching.”

 

“No, this is perfect, Valarr. The painful feeling and the itching are both a sign of the bone healing. Well done.”

 

Valarr looked a little less worried then, standing up straighter and he gave a small, soft smile.

Harry turned back to Aenar and he took his dagger carefully to the binding, cutting it away and then he checked on the bone, the skin, for any odd marks or shapes.

 

“How is it feeling now, Aenar?” He asked, even as he dipped a cloth into a bowl of water to wash the skin gently.

 

“Better now that the stitching is out, Mother.” Aenar said, watching every move he made curiously. “Valarr was very gentle.”

 

“You haven’t been playing with it?”

 

“No, Mother.”

 

“You haven’t knocked it, not even by accident or in play?”

 

Aenar shook his head. “No, Mother. I’ve been very careful with it because I want to be a knight!”

 

“You’ll make a very formidable knight one day, but first, you need to heal.”

 

“It’s been awful not being able to sword play.” His eight year old insisted.

 

“I know, but with a broken arm, there are a great many things that you can’t do.”

 

“Perhaps the next time that we tell you not to do something, you will actually listen.” Rhaegar said firmly, Naerys perched happily in his lap, she had not flowered in their absence, much to both of their relief. Rhaegar had fully supported Harry’s idea of presenting her with a list of all the men who had demanded that she marry before she was even flowered. He had been furious when Harry had told him about the Tyroshi nobleman who had been the most recent man to demand Naerys’ hand in marriage.

 

Aenar ducked his head. “I will.” He said.

 

“This is healing nicely.” Harry declared. “A few weeks more and you’ll be fine and back to playing and taking your sword lessons.”

 

“Truly?” Aenar asked excitedly.

 

Harry laughed. “Truly.”

 

“You are alright too, Mother?” Maelor asked.

 

Harry smiled softly. “I am. I needed to rest and eat a little, I have now done so and I am very well. Your Father is a little protective, as always, but Grand Maester Gormon had declared me fine and healthy a week ago.”

 

“We’ve brought Aelyx back with us.” Baelon said, as he came striding into the solar of Maegor’s Holdfast. “He won’t settle at all, I left him with Balerion and from the way that _he’s_ acting, Aelyx has slipped genders.”

 

“How is he, or she if he has slipped gender?” Harry asked immediately. “Were those wounds very deep afterwards? We never had the chance to examine them thoroughly during the rescue.”

 

“They weren’t too deep, Mother. I managed to heal him and now he’s doing better, but he has been scarred. Some of his scales are missing and I don’t know if they’ll ever grow back because of the puckered scars underneath. He’s also a little more demanding and skittish than he was before. He refuses to go anywhere alone, he’s staying close to Balerion and he keeps keening, crying out for something, but when we offer him anything, the things that we think he want’s, he rejects them.”

 

Harry nodded, he had a very good idea of what Aelyx wanted, and only he could give it to him. “I will go and see to him then. Children, a light meal has been prepared for you, I should be back before you’ve finished. Go on.”

 

He urged them towards the laid table and then he left Maegor’s Holdfast, making his way to the newly reinforced Dragonpit, with five members of the Kingsguard standing tall at his back. He rather thought that it was a little unneeded, or at the least a bit of an exaggeration, but he said nothing as Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, Ser Oswell, Prince Lewyn and Ser Arys followed him out of Maegor’s Holdfast, out of the Red Keep and into the city proper.

From there he was surrounded on all sides as if he were under imminent threat and he sighed heavily, lifting his eyes skyward for a moment, as if beseeching the Gods.

 

“It’s no good huffing and puffing, Your Grace.” Prince Lewyn teased him. “You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

 

“A little excessive, don’t you agree?” Harry said with a smile.

 

“After the trouble that you always manage to find, I have to disagree with you.” Ser Arthur insisted.

 

Harry laughed then. “Rhaegar and I have sworn off of such things now. This latest disaster was one too many. I was terrified that Rhaegar was dead when I saw the arrows stuck in his body and we were ripped away from one another, leaving me to face grave danger alone. Garlan almost killed himself and all of his men to come back for me, but after Rhaegon had ordered him back to Highgarden when I couldn’t be found, I was alone in that city for four days.”

 

“Where did you hide?” Ser Barristan asked him.

 

“Can you not guess?” He asked with a small laugh. “The godswood, of course. I eventually climbed a tree right beside the city wall and I dropped over the other side, I waited for night to fall and then ran to the Honeywine, filled up my water skin and then followed the river until I could just about see Brightwater Keep and then I went West around it and into open field.”

 

“There are no rivers out that way.” Prince Lewyn said sternly.

 

“I rationed the one water skin that I had.” Harry said softly. “I had to make it last from the moment I left the Honeywine until I hit the Mander.”

 

“How long did you survive with just the one water skin?” Ser Barristan asked him, looking a little paler.

 

“A week and a half.” Harry admitted, to gasps and grunts of distress. “I’m fine. I survived. I took a swallow of water every morning, but refused to allow myself to have any more. I will not lie though, not to any of you, there were times when I wanted to just sit down, drain the water skin dry and then lie down and never get back up again. It was much harder, much worse, when the water skin ran dry about two days before I eventually reached the Mander, I truly thought that I was going to die then, as I had no idea where I was in relation to the Mander or if I would even make it there. I wanted to lie down and not get back up again at that point, but that has never been the person that I am. I have never in my life allowed myself to give into such desires and I have always fought through such difficulties. I was determined that that walk would be no different.”

 

“You have certainly proved as such over the course of your life.” Ser Barristan sighed.

 

“You truly have never been one to give in when things get difficult.” Prince Lewyn said sadly, thinking back over the events that had marred his tiny friend’s life, from the madness of his Father, King Aerys, the orders that he and his sworn brothers had chosen to follow to ignore the small, heartbroken twelve year old, to the uncelebrated thirteenth name day. Then there finding the recently turned thirteen year old missing one morning, about a week later. Their tiny Prince had turned up two and a half years later with a Maester’s chain about his slim neck and that insufferable grin as if he had never been away. Then came the threats to his life once more, the quick, secret marriage in the godswood and as quickly as he’d come, he’d been gone again, this time to Dragonstone with his new brother-husband. A year and a half later he had come back with the infant Rhaegon. Then came the trip to Dorne and then the Kingswood Brotherhood and when he’d seen his beloved Prince in that too small crow cage, beaten, bound and unconscious, he had lost all sense as he attacked and killed those responsible. It had been an agonising time, waiting for his Prince to recover and wake up once more. The relief had been extraordinary as he’d seen Rhaegar supporting Haradarian into the solar, a little tired, a little unsure on his feet, but he’d smiled and that had been the greatest thing that he’d ever seen.

Shortly after had been the tourney at Harrenhal and then…then the fool’s rebellion and the desperate, clawing fear that Haradarian had been slain by the Lannisters, even as Rhaegar had won at the Trident, though they had feared that he would keel over at any moment due to the dent in his armour and the ribs underneath. They had found Haradarian safe and well, his babe still thriving…the babe who would emerge as Baelon, the Prince of Summerhall and the protector of dragons. The Prince whose infant son, Aedus, kept all those of them on duty at night with a constant sore, pounding head with his screaming and wailing.

After the rebellion, not much had actually threatened their beloved royal family, there had been a few Baratheon supporters who had tried to attack them, the Lannisters had tried to rebel with the aid of the Maesters, but Haradarian had sorted that out quickly and efficiently and he had taken Janei Lannister as a hostage. The ten year old had been terrified and in tears, but Harry had never been one for unneeded cruelty, not to children, and he had treated her kindly and reassured her that no harm would ever come to her. She had been placed into the care of the Septa who taught all of the Princesses their sewing and such and she had been very well cared for, then Rhaegon had spotted her and the infatuation was almost instant. They had married when Janei had first flowered and they now had two baby daughters and another babe on the way, according to his wife.

Since the put down of the Lannisters, would-be rebellion, nothing had truly threatened their royal family until the rise up of the Maesters and the Faith in Oldtown. Aelyx had gone missing and Haradarian had immediately known that the Citadel had been to blame, but he had still gone looking for Aelyx first, insistent on being seen to do what was right before he went to Oldtown and stormed the Citadel.

None of them could take much more of the antics of the royal family, and this latest debacle was just too much. Thankfully, it seemed that their two Kings finally agreed with them, at last. With a little luck, nothing like this would ever happen again.

 

“I don’t believe that I’d ever be able to live with myself if I gave in without fighting, without even trying.” Harry said thoughtfully.

 

“My King, it is wonderful to see you.” A female voice called out from the streets and Harry automatically smiled and raised a hand in acknowledgement. “May the Seven bless you, Your Grace!”

 

“Thank you, dear woman.” Harry replied graciously. “It is wonderful to be home in the Capital once more.”

 

More smallfolk called out greetings and blessings, right up until they reached Rhaenys’ Hill, then the crowds became thinner, with less people around. A dozen gold cloaks guarded the Hill, several of them right outside the newly reinforced entrance to the Dragonpit. He and Rhaegar were taking absolutely no chances with their precious babes. It was too soon after the fear of the Maesters attempt to once more wipe out the living dragons in Westeros…they would not allow them to have an easy target.

The gold cloaks stood aside with respectful nods and murmurs of greetings and then the six of them entered the Dragonpit, where a dozen dragons were sleeping lazily. A dozen different coloured eyes opened to squint at them, before declaring them as no threat. Daegon, King Haradarian’s favoured war mount, was the only one to get to his feet, stretching, before he came to greet them.

 

“Hello, Daegon.” Harry greeted the black and gold dragon fondly, lovingly, but his gaze was pinned to Balerion, and the smaller lump nestled incredibly close beside him.

 

Aelyx was close in colouring to Balerion, jet black, with hints of red, but with the addition of a smattering of gold too.

Harry finished greeting Daegon and he pushed him towards the massive pile of cooked meat in the corner of the Dragonpit while he went straight to Aelyx.

 

“Aelyx, my love.” Harry called out gently, touching the nose of the dragon gently, scratching at his scales with his nails.

 

The dragon flinched under his touch and reared back before he’d even opened his eyes. Balerion beside him gave a warning growl of discontent.

 

“Enough of that.” Harry chastised Balerion sternly. “Aelyx, come here.”

 

Aelyx, who had actually opened his golden eyes now, tried to snuggle up to Harry as if he were a tiny hatchling still as soon as he realised that his Mother was in front of him.

Harry sat on the floor and the tip of a snout found his lap, pressing in as Aelyx bent his head to get on eye level with him, whining and grunting. Harry just sat and stroked him, scratched him with his nails, speaking to him softly and soothingly, ignoring the tremendous heat coming from his babe. The Dragonpit was always swelteringly hot, the stone held the heat of the dragons so well that it was almost like a furnace inside, especially when there were a dozen or more dragons housed inside it.

 

“We’re never going to let you go again.” Harry promised Aelyx softly, listening to the soft chirrup of pleasure and happiness as Aelyx rubbed his head into Harry’s lap further.

 

Balerion shifted and he took a moment to peer around and then one wing flared and came down over the back of Aelyx, tucking the much smaller dragon up safely. Harry smiled to see it, but Baelon had been right, Aelyx had shifted genders and it seemed like _she_ was going to be having her first clutch of eggs soon. Their Balerion would be having his first ever clutch too. He hadn’t fancied any of his brothers turned sisters before now, Aelyx was the first and Harry smiled. He couldn’t wait to tell Rhaegar, but at least Balerion would be very protective of Aelyx from now on. Very few dragons were monogamous, usually one of them impregnated all of the females. He and Rhaegar had expected it to be their big, dominant Balerion, but he had shown no interest so Rhaelys, driven mad by the fertile females, had slipped under and had impregnated Pyrexian and Saera, he was the sire of the five eggs back at Summerhall. Now Balerion had staked a claim on just one particular dragon, one who had been a male before she had been taken and imprisoned in the Citadel. Harry was just happy that Aelyx would now be protected and safe and hopefully, she would stop flinching when she was unexpectedly touched with a bit more time.

Harry spent hours down in the Dragonpit with Aelyx. He had told his children that he would be back before they’d finished eating, but he was sure that Rhaegar and their older sons would look after them and keep them entertained. Aelyx whined every time that Harry made to move, so he was very prepared to stay down here, in the Dragonpit, and sleep with Aelyx if that was what his babe needed to feel safe and secure again.

 

“How is he?” Rhaegar’s voice came from the other side of the Dragonpit.

 

Harry looked up, towards Rhaegar and he sighed. “She.”

 

“She has slipped gender then?” Rhaegar asked, coming to sit behind him on the hot, stone floor.

 

Harry nodded. “Our Balerion is smitten. I think that they have eggs on the way.”

 

“So soon after Aelyx’s torment?”

 

“It might have made her feel better.” Harry said consideringly, then he sighed. “Remember when I was caught by the Kingswood Brotherhood, and when I got back all I wanted was for your touch? It helped me to remember that you were there with me, that you still loved me despite what had been done to me. Of course I still had nightmares and moments of fear and panic, but you helped me through it, Rhaegar. It seems that Balerion helps Aelyx through the same.”

 

“Well it seems that Rhaelys will have some competition for the affection of the female dragons.” Rhaegar chuckled.

 

Harry snorted. “I don’t think so. By all rights Balerion could have trampled Rhaelys to get to Pyrexian and Saera, but he didn’t. He had no interest in them.”

 

“You’re saying that he might only want Aelyx?”

 

“Well he certainly didn’t want Pyrexian or Saera.” Harry pointed out. “I’m not saying he might not want others later, if any more of our boys switch to females and he takes interest, but he has staked a claim on Aelyx, very soon after she has arrived home a female too. He made sure to do so before any other dragon could show any interest and he’s keeping her close. I think that he’s just rather picky.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Rhaegar teased, nuzzling his neck.

 

“No.” Harry smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but Rhaegar, our Balerion is going to sire a clutch!” He said excitedly.

 

Rhaegar laughed and bent forward a little more to kiss his cheek.

 

“Baelon has said that the five eggs are still well cared for and they’re not any nearer to hatching, but Pyrexian and Saera are both still incubating. Rhaelys brings them both food and they are well within distance of the water tanks. The servants keep them topped up via the drains we had built in.”

 

“Good.” Harry nodded happily. “All the writings claim that when the eggs are close to hatching that they will not want to move away from the top of them. I want them to have water within distance and Rhaelys is being a good sire and feeding them both well. Very soon we’ll have some more little hatchlings running around the corridors.”

 

“Speaking of…Baelon said that Laeraxes is missing you. He has never been so long without you and he is prowling the halls of Summerhall looking for you. The servants are all too afraid to go about their daily duties.”

 

Harry sighed. “When Baelon goes back to Summerhall I will have him send Laeraxes over and I will spend some time with him. He is only six after all. Our youngest babe.”

 

Rhaegar nuzzled against the back of his head and Harry laughed softly, but he was getting aroused and there was nothing that he could do about it.

Balerion lifted his head and sniffed the air a little, then he snorted and settled down again. Rhaegar actually laughed and Harry gave him a good, bony elbow to the chest for his teasing. He made sure to hit the opposite side of Rhaegar to the healing broken ribs…the twice broken ribs.

He sighed heavily and rested back against Rhaegar gently, trying not to put much weight on him, but his husband knew what he wanted, knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t having it. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back firmly, putting all of Harry’s weight onto himself.

 

“I have enough strength left to me to hold you, my love. I will always have the strength to support you.”

 

“I am almost of a size with you, your ribs.”

 

“My ribs are fine and I have no sharp pains that you warned me of. You might have grown to be near as tall as me, _brother_ , but I am still much broader and heavier than you are.”

 

“My dear, Rhaegar, are you truly admitting to being fat, after all of these years of denial?” Harry teased. He heard a quiet snort from further back against the wall, where their Kingsguard were standing guard over them. It would only be Lewyn or Arthur. They had known about them, truly known about them, for so long that he and Rhaegar found it difficult to chastise them, just the opposite, they usually joked with them and spoke to them both as dear friends, as truly that is what they were to the both of them.

 

“You know damn well that I wasn’t.” Rhaegar faux growled, but still he got several answering growls from the dragons, who looked up and cast about their eyes for a reason for their Father to growl in such a way, before they settled back down once they realised that no one was here that shouldn’t have been and their Father was merely playing.

 

Harry chuckled and he trusted his husband’s judgement and he rested fully back upon his broader husband, Aelyx’s snout still in his lap.

 

“Do you think that she will let you go?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“Not tonight, I wouldn’t imagine. It has been some years since I have had to sleep with the dragons. I do not count the nights I spent with Pyrexian and Saera as they laid their eggs, I didn’t actually sleep then. I was too worried and far too excited for our first dragon born eggs.”

 

Rhaegar kissed the back of his head. “The children are all unpacking. None of them want to go back to Summerhall with Baelon, they want to stay with you.”

 

“After over a turn away from them, it is nothing I did not expect.” Harry said. “I am going to be rather popular in the coming weeks.”

 

“I don’t mind sharing you with our children, but remember, at night, you’re mine.”

 

Harry laughed at that, surprised. “Just not tonight, my love. Aelyx needs me.”

 

“You’re not staying down here alone, Harry. I’m not going to just leave you down here so soon after getting you back.”

 

“It has been over two weeks since I wandered into Highgarden, are you still so off balance?”

 

“Yes. It will take several turns for me to get back to leaving you in peace to wander around alone. Until then, you’re staying in my sight, or you’ll be under the protection of the Kingsguard at all times.”

 

Harry hummed then. “I had wondered why it needed five of them to escort me down to the Dragonpit when truly, only one would have usually been required. We have a lot of children, Rhaegar, children that need protecting here in the Capital. I would never forgive you the order that would see me protected over our own babes.” 

 

“They are safe inside Maegor’s Holdfast.” Rhaegar told him soothingly. “I ordered the Bronze Gates closed for the night, naturally only letting ourselves back in if needed, and Ser Balon is on Maegor’s Bridge while Ser Willem is patrolling the corridors.”

 

“It is not so late already, is it?” Harry questioned in surprise.

 

“The children are exhausted from their nine days of travelling and Aenar and Aeron barely made it through their dinners.” Rhaegar told him. “I put them both to bed before coming down here for you. I would imagine by now that all of our babes are either sleeping, or they’re being quiet in their bedchambers.”

 

Harry sighed and lifted a hand to stroke at Aelyx’s head some more, scratching right below the eye socket, on the ridge of scales there, just as Aelyx liked. His other hand had risen almost against his will to tug on the Maester’s chain around his neck.

 

“You’re torturing yourself with thoughts again. Stop thinking about such things, Haradarian, it will do you no good. What has happened, has already happened and there is no changing it now.”

 

“How do you always know?” Harry tilted his head back to smile up at Rhaegar.

 

“You get this scrunched up, pained look on your face. Stop it.” 

 

“It is one of my heaviest thoughts, it has been for years.”

 

Rhaegar looked a little uncomfortable then and he sighed heavily himself. “What if I had never found the prophecy from Valyria? What if it had been destroyed before either of us were even born and we didn’t know to lie with one another? What if we had never given our love a true chance and had never had any of our babes, human or dragon?”

 

“So you do know.” Harry said softly.

 

“We have the same greatest fear, my love, and that is losing one another in any way, losing the family that we have built together over the many years. It is a common fear among those of us who hold true love, as we do. I wouldn’t let it trouble you, as I have said, what has happened has already happened, and cannot be changed.”

 

Harry smiled and rested against Rhaegar’s chest, leaning more towards the side that didn’t have twice broken ribs. Rhaegar was lucky to be alive…in truth, they both were. They were lucky in so many ways, to have one another, to have their babes, to have the dragons, to have grandchildren. Then they had friends that they could entrust their lives to, strong allies in those around them, they were safe on the Iron Throne, as they had been privileged enough to be born to royalty. They had so much to be thankful for that it seemed ungrateful to worry about anything, but he couldn’t help it, he did worry and fret a lot, and it seemed that his husband did too. They would need to talk more about it once they were safely wrapped up in one another’s arms in their bed together.

 

“How is Aelyx?” A new voice joined them.

 

The both of them looked behind to see their tall, strong Rhaegon approaching.

 

“She’s very unsettled, but Balerion is helping her. She has eggs on the way.”

 

“Truly?” Rhaegon asked as he laid a gentle hand on Aelyx’s head, up by her horns. She didn’t even stir and Harry smiled in relief. She was going to be just fine.

 

“Yes, it seems that Balerion enjoys Aelyx as a female more than he did as a male.” Rhaegar laughed.

 

 “Aenar woke up in pain, I gave him some more milk of the poppy and I stayed with him until he fell asleep again. I made absolutely sure that it was less than a quarter of a spoon.”

 

“You do make a wonderful father, Rhaegon.” Harry said happily.

 

Rhaegon chuckled. “I had good parents to model my behaviour on.”

 

“Did you find out if Janei was truly pregnant again?” Rhaegar asked after several moments of silence.

 

“Yes, and she is. Grand Maester Gormon has confirmed it. She says that she is praying for a boy for me, but I have told her, as I did with Shaea and Rhaenys, that I do not care as long as she and the babe come out of the birth healthy. I have enough younger brothers that I do not need a son to secure our family. I would be content with all girls if that is what the Gods grant us and I always mean my words. If Janei and I have no sons, I would happily name Baelon my heir and then I could go and lounge around Summerhall all year round and play with the newly hatched dragons all day. Baelon already has a son in Aedus, and truly there are enough of us to secure our family for generations. Soon we will be a part of every major and minor house of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

“It was not so long ago that we numbered just five.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Now we are twenty-seven. We will be twenty-eight when Janei has your third babe. We truly are growing and spreading.”

 

“We have done well.” Rhaegar said. “Truly we have done all that we could to save our family. Fourteen babes you’ve given me, Haradarian. It is their turn now.”

 

“Will you have no more now?” Rhaegon asked.

 

“Whatever blessing the Gods gave me when I was young, they have now taken away. I cannot have any more babes. I stopped falling pregnant as soon as our babes started having babes of their own. As soon as the next generation was secured, the ability was lost.” He said softly. “Laeraxes is six years old, and so is Garyn. As soon as Helaena had Garyn, my ability was no longer needed to secure the Targaryen family. Truthfully your Father and I are getting much too old for this nonsense. We will see Aenar and Aeron to adulthood, if they don’t kill themselves first, and then we will retire and enjoy the rest of our lives peacefully.”

 

Rhaegon laughed at that. “I have never seen either of you sitting still for more than a day.” He explained. “There is always a new tourney to practice for, a new threat to take down or some other problem that interrupts such idyllic notions. Neither of you were made to sit still.”

 

“The mantel will pass to you one day, Rhaegon.” Rhaegar said seriously. “We are getting older and we cannot live forever. On that day we will hand over our crowns and then you will be King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of the Realm and it will fall to you to deal with the problems that arise and the grievances of the smallfolk. I just wish that I could still hand over Kingsfire to you, but…”

 

“The last time that you held it you opened up your own leg.” Harry finished with a laugh. Rhaegar shifted under him uncomfortably.

 

“Haradarian. I am so sorry, my love. I know that you collected the steel for years, for a decade even, that you carved out the hilt yourself from dragonbone, that you had forged it with your own hands, putting in your own Valyrian steel links from your Maester’s chain, but…”

 

“Rhaegar, what are you speaking of?” Harry asked worriedly as Rhaegar trailed off painfully, turning to look at his husband, almost dislodging Aelyx’s head from his lap. “Are you feeling quite well? Perhaps I should look at your ribs again, just in case.”

 

Rhaegar intercepted his raised hand before it could touch his head to check for a fever. He looked so mournful that Harry’s heart actually missed a beat in his chest and he didn’t even know why.

 

“Harry, I cannot give Kingsfire to Rhaegon because I lost it in Oldtown when I was injured. I am so sorry, my love.”

 

“I tried to look for it.” Rhaegon carried on as Harry remained silent. “I had men tear apart every single house, every building and hide hole to look for it, but it was nowhere to be found.”

 

Harry blinked twice, and then he laughed. He laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes.

 

“I thought that you would be angry.” Rhaegar confessed. “It took you years to collect enough steel, you were heavily pregnant with Baelon when you forged it, putting both of you at risk, and you carved the hilt from an ancestral dragon head with your own hands.”

 

“Oh.” Harry exclaimed, wiping his eyes. He giggled a little in true amusement and it brought an answering smile to Rhaegar’s face as he heard it, as it always did. “Do you think that I value some sword more than I do my husband? My children?” He asked. “Regardless of how long it took to make, or to collect the steel, I love you and our babes more than I could ever care about some sword.”

 

Rhaegar hugged him close and kissed him. “I am just regretful that I lost such a precious gift that was made by your own hands. You know that I treasured it more because you had made it with your own hands and had given it to me with such a look of love and pride on your face. You were so proud of the work that you’d done that I swore to myself that I would treasure whatever it was that you were giving to me for the rest of my life, just because of that look. I treasured it as I could only treasure a gift given to me by my beloved husband.”

 

“So you should be regretful for leaving it.” Harry teased. “You’re just lucky that after you were gone on the back of Viserion that I picked it up and took it with me. It is up in our bedchambers, in my luggage that was given to me by our Helaena.”

 

Lewyn and Arthur couldn’t help themselves as they started laughing from against the wall. Even Ser Barristan managed a rueful chuckle and Rhaegon laughed out loud, but Rhaegar looked stunned as those twinkling green eyes gazed up at him, that perfect pink mouth curved into a naughty, teasing grin.

 

“Truly?” He asked, hardly daring to believe it.

 

“Truly. I would not have left it there, just as I would never have left you there, injured as you were. It is your sword, made by my own hand to my own design just for you, my love. No one else but a Targaryen can have it. Only the ruling King will ever hold that sword as his own. Of course I took it with me after first seeing you to safety. Though perhaps this will be a lesson to you in shirking your duties. I am sure that I told you two weeks ago, once we had arrived back home from Highgarden, to unpack my luggage for me. If you had done as asked, you would have found the sword and put a stop to all this needless fretting.”

 

That set off another round of laughter and even Rhaegar managed to chuckle this time and he all but crushed Harry in a tight hug. Aelyx moved her head herself, to tuck it up under Balerion’s neck and Harry stretched automatically, working out his numb and stiffened legs.

Balerion shifted himself, his wing tucking Aelyx in tighter to himself and he turned his head to curl up around Aelyx and Harry smiled. He stood with shaky, wobbly legs that had fallen asleep under the heavy weight of Aelyx’s head and he stretched as much as he could, going almost lightheaded as a result. He took a deep breath and smiled as he looked upon his sleeping babe, he was so thankful that she had been brought home safely and he kissed Aelyx’s scales lovingly, scratching against the ridge of scales that she loved being touched.

 

“Rest peacefully, my babe.” He said to her softly. “Know that you are safe and loved, that you are back with your family now and this will never happen again.”

 

“It seems that we will not be spending the night down here then.” Rhaegar said happily.

 

Harry turned and smiled at him, walking forward to wrap his arms around his neck, fingers automatically playing with silver hair. They were almost on eye level with one another, Harry was barely an inch shorter, but Rhaegar was much broader, as was their Rhaegon, who had grown to be taller than them both, but with his Father’s broadness.

 

“Come, let us go back to the Holdfast and rest in the solar for a while. I need to eat and I want to check on our babes before we retire for the night. Aelyx is well protected and it seems that she doesn’t need me as much as I had thought, Balerion has her from here.”

 

Rhaegar supported him upright as they left the Dragonpit. The shift of gold cloaks had changed, but the men were alert and they had more than enough warmth and light. They had a large fire pit, food and wine, warm cloaks and two dozen torches. They were well provided for, and even if they were a little scared still, as the dragons could and would leave the Dragonpit via the open roof, they knew well enough to douse themselves with perfumes, anything as long as they did not smell like meat and thus invite the dragons to see them as food.

They made it back to the Red Keep, and then to Maegor’s Holdfast, with no trouble and they greeted Ser Balon Swann cordially. The young man was stood, tall and strong and dutiful. Harry very much approved of this man. He made for a good Kingsguard member.

Ser Arys Oakheart replaced Ser Balon on the bridge, as directed by Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of them, and Ser Oswell was sent to find Ser Willem and relieve him of his duties. Both knights who had been relieved were to go to White Sword Tower and sleep.

Harry went to check on his sleeping babes, Aenar and Aeron, both in the same large bed for warmth. He checked on Aenar’s arm gently and he kissed them both on their foreheads, moving their conflicting hair first, Aenar with silver, Aeron with black. It was such a strange thing to see when both boys had the same face and the same eyes.

He checked on his older twins, Maelor first, their only babe to take fully after himself, then Maella, who was silver haired and green eyed. She was in bed with Naerys, who was also silver haired and green eyed, but Naerys was awake…she looked petrified.

 

“What is it, sweet one?” Harry asked her at a whisper. “Have you had a bad dream?”

 

“I…I’ve flowered.” Naerys said in a soft sort of horror as she lifted a blood covered hand. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been that.

 

“Come with me.” Harry ordered.

 

Naerys listened immediately and with an air of a woman going to her own execution, she followed him to the bathing chamber just down the hall.

 

“Clean yourself up while I fetch an attending lady, it is not proper for me to see you in nakedness.”

 

“Mother!” Naerys called out worriedly and Harry stopped and he thought about how all of this seemed to his young daughter.

 

He turned and went back to her, kissing her forehead and smiling reassuringly. “It is nothing for you to fret over, you have become a woman now, Naerys. I will send someone to help you to change and clean up while I am going to mix you something to help with the pain. Then we will talk, yes?”

 

Naerys nodded, still looking as if she were about to be executed. He would have to reassure her more with their talk once she was clean.

He left the bathing chamber and sent a passing servant to wake one of the attending ladies for his young daughters. It had been important to him and to Rhaegar to give their children the influence of an actual woman, especially their daughters, so they kept a handful of noble ladies at court to teach their young daughters about womanly things, and also to give a softer influence to their sons. It seemed to have worked out rather well.

Harry went right to his and Rhaegar’s bedchambers and to the table in the corner that was covered in dried herbs and little bottles and jars. He made up a small dose of a moderate painkiller and he took the vial to the solar to await Naerys.

 

“Are you well?” Rhaegar asked him, seeing the expression on his face.

 

“Boys, go to bed.” He ordered his older sons.

 

Rhaegon, Baelon and Aenys all baulked at the command as if they were mere boys once more, but Valarr, soft, lovely Valarr just stood, bid him and Rhaegar goodnight, and he left for his bedchambers.

 

“Haradarian?” Rhaegar queried again, worriedly.

 

“All is well, just go to your bedchambers, there is something that has come up and you will only regret staying.” He explained, settling his grown sons some as they took their curious wives and then left for their childhood bedchambers, after bidding him a rather stiff goodnight.

 

“What was that about?” Rhaegar asked once they were gone.

 

“Naerys has flowered and she doesn’t wish for an audience with her brothers.” Harry said simply.

 

“Oh. _Oh_!” Rhaegar said. “Well, seven hells, will we ever get the chance to just settle down and rest?”

 

“Not tonight it seems.” Harry smiled ruefully.

 

They waited for near on half an hour before Naerys made her appearance, very pale, very slow moving and looking as uncomfortable as Harry had ever seen her.

 

“Here, sweet one. Drain it in one and then have some water.” He encouraged.

 

She did as asked and swallowed the whole vial in one and then, with streaming eyes, gulped at some water in a very unladylike manner, but they could forgive her as such in the circumstances. Truly Harry believed that Rhaegar would forgive her just about anything.

 

“Has it been explained to you what has happened?” He asked.

 

She nodded. “I already knew what would happen, Maella told me when she first flowered and I asked Aelinor and Aelora about it too.”

 

“Then why are you so worried, little flower?” Rhaegar asked her.

 

“Because…” Naerys cut herself off with a frown.

 

“What is it?” Harry prompted after several moments of silence.

 

“We are your parents, Naerys, you can tell us anything.”

 

“I don’t want to be married!” She said in a rush.

 

“You don’t?” Harry asked, sharing a look with Rhaegar.

 

“No! I don’t want to disappoint either of you or let down my family, but I don’t want a husband.” She said before she started to cry.

 

Neither of them could ignore that and as one they stood, crossed to the opposite settee and sat on either side of their youngest daughter.

 

“Shush now, sweet one.” Harry coaxed, smoothing that thigh length hair.

 

“All will be well.” Rhaegar assured her. “Why did you never tell us as such before?”

 

“I didn’t want you to be angry with me.” Naerys said softly.

 

“We wouldn’t have been angry, we just want to understand. Do you not want a husband or children?”

 

Naerys shook her head. He and Rhaegar shared another look.

 

“Is there something that you’ve heard about or seen that has put you off? Was it stories of a bedding? You don’t have to have one of those if you do not wish to. Your brother Baelon refused to have one and he and Joy celebrated privately. If you don’t want one, we will find you a husband who will agree to such terms.”

 

“I don’t want a husband! I don’t want to be married.” Naerys cried out angrily.

 

“Alright, alright.” Harry soothed. “So, nothing has turned you off of the idea?”

 

“No, I’ve just never wanted to do as such.” Naerys said sadly. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

 

“We’re not.” Rhaegar assured her quickly and Harry smirked at him for a moment before turning back to his daughter.

 

“Of course we aren’t, Naerys, but can you explain your thoughts to us?”

 

“It is just something that I have never wanted, I know that you can force me to marry, I have been dreading my flowering for years.”

 

“We would never force you to marry, Naerys.” Rhaegar said firmly. “We have never forced any of our children to marry before and never with someone they did not like.”

 

“You did with Rhaegon!” Naerys accused. “Besides it has never truly come up before, none of my sisters have refused to marry and they are all happy with their chosen husbands. I don’t like anyone the way they did!”

 

“Rhaegon was a special exception, Naerys, and he is the only one. We had to bring the Lannister family into our family or they would have kept rebelling year after year, putting us in more danger. Rhaegon and Janei love one another, they have since they first laid eyes upon the other. As for your sisters, we have allowed them to each pick their chosen husbands, and not once have we ever tried to sway them, or your brothers, from their chosen partners, we have even allowed for Aerin to not be married or even betrothed.”

 

“Because he likes boys.” Naerys said, wiping her eyes as she calmed down. “But I don’t like girls either.”

 

“Just because you are flowered does not mean that you are to immediately be married.” Harry said firmly. “You are three-and-ten, Naerys. Maella is six-and-ten, she has been flowered for two years and she is yet to marry. We will not push you into anything and if you never want to marry, as long as you are happy, we will be content with that.”

 

“You…you will?” She asked, peering up at him and then looking to her Father for confirmation.

 

“Yes.” Rhaegar said firmly. “Just because you have a dozen suitors demanding that you marry does not mean that you have to. We are the blood of the dragon, we will not allow anyone to bully us or to walk all over us. If you do not want to marry, then you do not have to. You can be a half mad, spinster maid who throws things from the tower windows at passers-by if that is what you want and I would love you just the same.”

 

“Truly?” She asked, much happier.

 

“Truly.” They both replied together.

 

Naerys wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and she looked at them both through large, green eyes. “So, it does not matter that I am now flowered? I do not have to marry.”

 

“Not if you do not wish it.” Rhaegar said. “We would never have forced any of our daughters to marry, nor would we have forced our sons.”

 

“Valarr doesn’t really want to marry either.” Naerys told them.

 

“I thought that he wanted to marry Bethany Blackwood.” Harry said in confusion.

 

“No. He just thinks she will match him better than anyone else he had yet met. He wants to be a Maester truly and take the oaths, but he doesn’t believe he can now after the assault on the Citadel.”

 

“It seems that we have a maid and a man-maid then.” Rhaegar said, right before he laughed.

 

“You’re not funny.” Harry told him. “I will speak to Valarr in the morning. Now that this has been sorted, why don’t you go back to bed? Has the painkiller worked?”

 

“Yes, Mother. Thank you, for everything.”

 

“Whatever you want, sweet one. Off you go, before poor Maella gets a chill.”

 

“She will not be happy with me, Lady Tammy woke her up so the servants could change the sheets.”

 

Harry laughed. “Then go and share with her your news.”

 

Naerys hurried off and Harry groaned and fell onto Rhaegar.

 

“Will we ever have a quiet moment to ourselves?”

 

“No. It seems not.” Rhaegar said. “I told you that Valarr was queer.”

 

“Don’t say such things of our own son.”

 

“He is more a maid than any of our daughters.”

 

“You will be sleeping in the godswood, I warn you.”

 

“I do not mean to be disparaging.” Rhaegar assured him. “But I am sure that he is like you.”

 

“Like me how?” Harry demanded dangerously.

 

“You need me to be blunt? Fine. He prefers to be fucked instead of being the one to do the fucking, as Aerin does.”

 

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring in anger. “So what if he does?” He demanded in his most dangerous tone.

 

“But nothing.” Rhaegar said. “If that is what he prefers I have no worries about it, but he is still a man-maid at nine-and-ten. It is odd. Even you had lost your virginity at four-and-ten.”

 

“Yet, if I recall you were much older.” Harry pointed out savagely. “You were seven-and-ten when you had your first ever tumble and yet you despair that our Valarr has waited two years longer than you did? Did I despair that you waited three years after me to lose your virginity? No! He can have sex when he feels that he wants to! If he is four-and-ten, or forty! It is determined by when he is comfortable and ready, not by age, as you should well know. You only lost your own virginity because you did not want to harm me, if you had waited, how old would you have been, Rhaegar? How old?!”

 

Rhaegar was angry, Harry could see it in those dark indigo eyes and the clenching of his jaw, but Harry would never stand for such said against his children, not even by his husband.

 

“I would have been twenty.” Rhaegar said in a harsh tone. “It would have been our wedding night.”

 

“You cannot see how alike you and Valarr are and it drives me mad.” Harry said, his own tone biting. “You only picked up a sword after you found the prophecy, do you think that you would have done as such if you had never found it?! Valarr is your double with my eyes, nothing more. I will not stand for you to insult him, our own son, just because he is a virgin still and likes to read. You would have been exactly the same if not for that prophecy!”

 

Harry stood and stormed away.

 

“Where are you going?” Rhaegar demanded.

 

“I’m getting as far away from you as I can!” Harry answered.

 

“The Others take you and your anger!” Rhaegar shouted after him and Harry knew that his husband would regret those words as soon as he realised what he’d said. Rhaegar never used that curse with him, not since he had been taken by the Kingswood Brotherhood.

 

Harry stormed past Ser Arys Oakheart, who was startled as he guarded the bridge into the Holdfast, and he tromped his way to the godswood, a silent Ser Barristan escorting him.

The power of the godswood lashed out violently around him, coming much quicker and more violent in his anger, and he let it whip at his hair and cloak, tugging on him, stinging his skin.

 

“Brace yourself, Ser.” He warned through gritted teeth before he screamed, long and loud, in the high, serpentine hiss that had several dragons screeching from the Dragonpit, on the other side of Kings Landing, as they heard his furious call, unleashing his special magics that shot through the godswood like a wave of high wind, bringing the already blooming and flourishing plant life to a higher quality and to a healthier state, even as his own power cut and harmed him, leaving shallow, bloody rents in his skin and tearing up his clothing. He fell to his knees and he screamed a second time, unleashing everything that he was feeling until he had nothing left.

 

It was a mark of his self-loathing for fighting with Rhaegar, and it had only happened a handful of times during their lifetime. Truly they hated fighting with one another and after such an event as the siege of Oldtown and the liberation of Aelyx, this fight had come much too soon for them to absorb. Neither had meant to make the other angry, neither had meant to harm the other, it had just happened and now they would both be beating themselves up with their anger, Rhaegar more so for his parting comment.

 

“We should get those seen to, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan said worriedly, several minutes of silence later, when he could no longer hold his tongue as he watched his King bleeding from various wounds over his face, hands and arms.

 

Harry nodded silently and he held a hand up, silently asking for assistance with his quivering legs. He was too newly recovered for this. He had not truly had the energy to spare for such an outburst. He was going to be back on bed rest, he already knew it.

They ran into a frantic Rhaegar just as they stepped off the serpentine steps. He was running across the courtyard from Maegor’s Holdfast. He did not stop running, in fact he got even faster as he saw the blood on his husband and he held Harry tightly when he reached them and he held Harry’s face between large hands and kissed his forehead gently.

 

“I am so sorry, my love.” He said, very upset. “I did not mean what I said and I did not mean for the power that you hold to harm you.”

 

“It is…”

 

“It is not alright.” Rhaegar said harshly. “I love you and nothing would ever turn me away from our love. I should never have gotten so riled up and I should never have cursed you as I did. Not after…after all that has happened to you in your life. I love you, with all that I am, please forgive me.”

 

“You were not the only one whose anger was stoked, Rhaegar. We both got angry and we both lashed out in that anger. Come, you can help me bind up these wounds and then we will go to bed. It will be dawn all too soon.” He said, craning his head back to look up at the pitch black night, at the thousands of bright stars twinkling above them.

 

“Do you need me to wake Grand Maester Gormon?”

 

“No, Rhaegar, let him sleep. They are not deep, you know as such from previous encounters. They will need a bit of a clean and some dabbing with a clean cloth, but they will eventually scab over and heal.” Harry sighed heavily and he cast a glance around before deciding that, in the middle of the night, he was safe to indulge a little, he did deserve it after all.

 

He stopped hobbling and he held his arms up to Rhaegar with a smile. It took his husband a moment to cotton on and he smiled too, picking him up and carrying him back into Maegor’s Holdfast.

 

“I cannot tell if you just wish to be indulged or if you are hurt worse than you appear.”

 

“A little of both.” Harry said truthfully. “Truly I will heal without issue, but after so recent a period of bed rest, such an outburst was ill advised. I will need to rest some more to regain my strength.”

 

“I will carry you to wherever you need to go until you are healed, my love, as penance for causing you such harm.”

 

“Oh?” Harry questioned, his tone light and teasing. “I had not known that carrying me was such a burden as to be seen as a penance.”

 

Rhaegar laughed then, before ducking his head and laying a kiss to his lips, closing his eyes against the horror as he tasted blood upon his husband’s lips. He had known that Harry’s magic often punished him for fights that they had, Harry had theorised once that it was because they were fated to be together and anything that harmed their bond was not allowed, thus Harry’s magic punished him for fights that they had. Rhaegar hated it, as he had no such magics and his body did not turn on him in such a way. He hated that they were so unequal in such an awful way.

As punishment he forced himself to see the cuts on Harry’s body, imagining that he had taken a knife to his husband to create each and every wound and his vision blurred several times with tears as he helped to clean and bind them, the silent, disapproving Kingsguard stood at their vigil, watching them. It made him feel worse, as they had intended. He took his meagre punishment without a word, or thought, of complaint.

Harry sighed happily once they were finished and he held his arms out again. Rhaegar didn’t care at all that their Kingsguard were watching them as he embraced Harry and pulled him across to sit him onto his lap, laying a kiss over those lips. Harry just tasted of Harry this time, not of blood, and he was very thankful for that. Harry cuddled into him and Rhaegar held him tightly, not willing to move, or put Harry down, as they healed the rift in their bond in the only way they knew how, with apologies and physical intimacy, reminding themselves of how very much they loved one another, despite their arguments and anger.

 

“Come, let us retire to bed.” Rhaegar said softly some twenty minutes of calm and quiet later, to a dozing Harry, who was still in his lap.

 

“Carry me.” His husband demanded.

 

“As if I would ever dare do anything else.” He jested as he stood with his husband safely nestled in his arms. Tall Harry might be, but he was a slight weight all the same and easily carried.

 

Only Ser Barristan followed them to their bedchambers, having obviously declared himself their protector for the night. After the day they had had, indeed in the last two turns, it was hardly surprising that their Lord Commander had taken it upon himself to guard them personally.

He left them at the entrance to their bedchambers and they went inside and closed the door behind them, then Rhaegar took him to the bed and laid him on it gently.

 

“Let me take care of you.” He said softly as he carefully removed Haradarian’s tattered tunic and breeches and dressed him again in a loose sleeping tunic, kissing random parts of his body as he did so to convey his sincere apology for the wounds inflicted upon him.

 

He tucked Harry into the bed before taking care of himself and getting into his own sleeping tunic. They had chosen a terrible time to fight, with Harry’s forty-second name day approaching in just a few days, but at least they were over as such and they could talk rationally about it from now on. Tomorrow was a new day and it would bring more anger, questions and perhaps even tears. He was not looking forward to that as he slipped into the bed with his husband and he held Harry close to him. Despite being nigh on exhausted, it took him hours of fretting and thinking of all the ways that he could have handled their fight better before he finally fell to sleep next to Harry.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Rhaegar had been correct that the family would be fraught with anger and tension, but what he hadn’t counted on were his sons refusing to even look at him after they’d seen the state of their Mother. Indeed, all the way from Rhaegon to Maelor, his older sons gave him disgusted looks and all his attempts at conversation were met with silence as a reply. His two youngest daughters were the same and Maella and Naerys, after first being assured that the fighting had not been about her or her decision not to marry and had instead just been terrible timing, both refused to speak to him either. As such he was spending a lot of time on his own, and with his two younger twins, Aenar and Aeron, who didn’t really understand what had gone on. No one had told them either, as he and Harry had judged them too young to know of such troubles and they had both warned their older children off from telling them also. 

Harry’s name day had passed normally, with gifts and celebration from all over the Seven Kingdoms, but no tourney had been held, no invitations were sent out, Harry had not wanted such a fuss, he had wanted to stay with his family and no one could blame him for such after what he had been through so recently. The day after Harry’s name day, however, was near the same as the last week, silence and loneliness, which had been the same for the last few days now as Harry had flown to Harrenhal the day after his name day to see to Daenerys and the newest member of their family, Jaerys Whent. He had yet to return.

 

“What was the fight about?”

 

Rhaegar all but jumped from his skin and he turned to see Rhaegon behind him, looking angry and determined.

 

“Oh, you are deigning to speak with me today?” He couldn’t help quipping.

 

“I only remember a handful of times that Mother has come back from the godswood looking as he does now and all have been as a result of you. What was the fight about? Naerys is still fretting that she is the cause, is she?”

 

“No, as your Mother and I said, it was just poor timing.” Rhaegar said clearly, firmly.

 

“What was the fight about then? What caused you to harm one another in such a way? When you know all too well that such rage towards one another causes such wounds to my Mother? We have begged the members of the Kingsguard to tell us, but they continuously refuse.”

 

“As they should. They are all sworn to hold the King’s secrets, or Kings’ in this case, and despite your short stint as ruling King, I and your Mother are back to filling in that role now, you all should have known better than to put them in such an impossible position.” 

 

“What was the fight about?” Rhaegon persisted and Rhaegar sighed out heavily, knowing when his stubborn son would not give up.

 

“Valarr. It was over Valarr.”

 

The answer visibly shocked Rhaegon. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been what the fight had truly been about.

 

“What has Valarr ever done to anyone?!” Rhaegon demanded, suddenly all brotherly overprotectiveness.

 

“Rhaegon, calm yourself. Your Mother and I had a ridiculous argument and that is the end of things.”

 

“No it isn’t!” Rhaegon said. “Why are you fighting and hurting one another over Valarr, what has he done?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“He must have done or you wouldn’t be fighting over him fervently enough to cause those wounds to Mother.”

 

“He hasn’t done anything and you shouldn’t take that tone with your Father.”

 

Rhaegar turned, a smile already on his face despite his soured mood and he held his arms open for Harry, who looked fresh and healed from his days away, his scabs had healed and nothing remained of them. He was soaking wet, though smiling as he approached him for a proper greeting.

 

“Why did you ride through the rain?” Rhaegar asked his husband fondly, yet resignedly, even as he hugged him tightly to his chest.

 

“I needed a bath.” Harry said back with a cheeky smile.

 

“What if you were hit by lightning?” Rhaegar demanded.

 

“It isn’t a thunder storm, just a light rain. Laeraxes enjoyed it too.” He said. “By the Gods it’s good to see you again. I missed you at Harrenhal. Dany is perfectly fine, though she’s getting angrier by the day. Poor Ser Oslyn isn’t allowing her to do much. Oh, but you should see little Jaerys, he’s beautiful! Big too, and thriving. I’m very proud.”

 

“Has he taken after our Dany?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“He has, though it is too soon to tell with his eyes, but his hair is a shock of silver-blond. Oslyn goes all gooey eyed and I swear he started melting into a puddle when his son gripped his finger and yawned. Lord Walter and I had a good laugh at his expense for that.”

 

Rhaegar had to kiss him. Rain drops still clinging to his skin, his hair plastered to his head, but Harry was back with him and they were going to be just fine.

 

“That is all well and good.” Rhaegon interrupted. “But why were you fighting over Valarr?”

 

Harry sighed heavily. “Valarr doesn’t want to marry, did you know?”

 

“No, I thought that he liked the Blackwood girl?” Rhaegon said, his face crumpling in confusion.

 

Harry shook his head. “No, that was what we thought, but he just thinks that she is the best fit for him, but he truly doesn’t want to marry anyone. He wanted to go to the Citadel like me, only unlike me he wanted to swear the oaths and become a Maester truly. It came as a shock to us both and we have had a disagreement over the best course to take with it, but that is all it is, Rhaegon, nothing more.”

 

“But you got hurt, you said before that you need to be truly angry, and only at Father, for it to happen.”

 

“No, my love, you are remembering that wrong. I have to be angry at _myself_ for fighting with your Father for this to happen to me.” He stressed. “I feel so awful for shouting at him and for fighting with him that my magic takes it out on myself. I do have a bit of a temper. I can be level-headed, but my patience is not limitless, and when that limit is reached, my temper explodes and I will take it out on the nearest convenient target. Mostly your poor Father.”

 

“So it wasn’t anything more?” Rhaegon persisted.

 

“No, my love. So you can go and tell your brothers and sisters to leave your Father alone, as I insisted before I left for Harrenhal, and you can all stop ignoring him. He deserves your respect still as your Father and this was not his fault, not entirely. We are both equally as hot tempered when we choose to be and we can be as bad as one another sometimes, which does lead to feelings getting hurt, but we always make up in the end, usually before an hour has passed.”

 

“It is not Valarr’s fault either?”

 

“No.” The both said firmly.

 

“This is not the fault of anyone.” Harry lied smoothly. “The argument escalated from us not noticing before that Valarr had no interest in marriage, but in the end it wasn’t even about Valarr that we were arguing. It is not his fault, it is our fault. The both of us, not just your Father.”

 

“I…I am sorry for laying the blame on you, Father.”

 

“Do not fret over it, Rhaegon.” Rhaegar sighed. “You saw your Mother hurt, so soon after he had been found after we believed him to be a prisoner. I do not hold it against any of you. Indeed I had a lot more time to dedicate to Aenar and Aeron and I believe that they enjoyed as such.”

 

“They’ve been running you ragged, haven’t they?” Harry teased.

 

“I will be glad for a rest!” Rhaegar laughed. “I don’t think I have had so many play sword fights since I was the same age.”

 

“Older.” Harry cut in with a shitty grin. “Much older.”

 

Rhaegar swatted him and hefted him up, holding him tightly.

 

“Okay, I was about three-and-ten…alright, five-and-ten!” He conceded when Harry coughed with a grin. “But still, those two boys are fierce.”

 

“I do hope that you haven’t just admitted to giving Aenar a sword.”

 

“No.” Rhaegar said proudly. “Aeron was the sword, Aenar was his brother’s shield. They work so well together.”

 

“Perhaps something to look at in the future then.” Harry said, before giving his husband a kiss. “Come, tell me about what has been happening in the Capital while I was away at Harrenhal.”

 

“It has been rather dull and boring here since you left. The dragons have been the most exciting, of course with so many of them here in the Dragonpit the smallfolk have been unsettled. You’d think that after two-and-twenty years of there being dragons here that they would be more used to them.”

 

“Baelon has yet to leave?” Harry questioned.

 

“He is waiting for you to see him off. He didn’t want to leave while you were away at Harrenhal.”

 

“A last supper with him then, I assume he wishes to leave tomorrow morning now that I am home?”

 

“He is eager to get back to Summerhall, he wants to check on Saera and Pyrexian and the five eggs.”

 

“I can understand that, he is the official protector of the dragons, being the Prince of Summerhall.” Harry sighed then. “Rhaegon, how is Janei?”

 

“She’s fine, Mother.” Rhaegon said, stepping forward to cup his Mother’s cheek for a moment before stepping back. “Shaea and Rhaenys are very excited to be older sisters. They have demanded that their Mother is to have another girl, because they don’t want a brother.”

 

Harry laughed. “Oh, those precious girls.”

 

“I’m sure they only say as such because they think a brother will take all of my attention from them. It is not true, of course, but they worry nonetheless, so another sister is the best choice…at least in their opinion.”

 

“Bless them.” Harry chuckled. “Come, I need to see my babes and I want to check on Aenar’s arm. Has he been well? How has Aelyx been?”

 

“Aenar is much better in recent days.” Rhaegar told him, even as he placed Harry back on the floor and instead took his hand. “He hasn’t needed any milk of the poppy at all. Grand Maester Gormon insists that it is a sign that he has healed well and that his bindings can come off soon.”

 

Harry nodded. “It is. I am glad that he listened to us this time and didn’t play with it or use it overly much, unlike Aerin. And Aelyx, how is she? I only caught a glimpse of her when I landed with Laeraxes.”

 

“Her egg bearing is progressing very well, but Balerion is so protective of her. He actually bit Daegon for getting too close.”

 

Harry stopped dead. Daegon was one of his favourites. “Is he okay? Did the wound fester?”

 

“No, but he is limping. I have checked the wound several times, as has Valarr, but we both believe it to be a superficial wound. He is currently in the godswood, we thought it best to separate them so that nothing escalates to anything worse than a warning bite to a hind leg.”

 

Harry nodded and then he sighed. “We always knew that Balerion was going to cause problems if he ever sired babes.”

 

“He is the most dominant of them all.” Rhaegar agreed with a nod.

 

“And as such, he is the most likely to lash out.”

 

“Come, Daegon is fine and he will heal, Aelyx is doing well with her egg bearing and Balerion is being a temperamental male.”

 

“Oh, will we ever have a quiet, peaceful life?”

 

“Something we ask ourselves every day.”

 

Harry grinned over at Lewyn as he moved to stand at guard behind them.

 

“It is good to see you again, my friend.” Harry greeted him happily.

 

“It is good to see you safe and sound, considering that you flew off without your Kingsguard…again!” Lewyn chastised. “You said that that habit would change.”

 

“Well, I was never going to change overnight.” Harry laughed. “I wanted to see Dany and baby Jaerys.”

 

“You need to stop doing this, the both of you.” Lewyn told them.

 

Harry nodded. “We do know and we’re going to take better care of ourselves and our safety from now on.”

 

“It has come about twenty years too late, but we will take what we can with you both.” Lewyn teased.

 

They made it to Maegor’s Holdfast and to the royal solar. Harry was delighted to see Ashara in attendance.

 

“Ashara!” He cried in delight. “Rhaegar, why didn’t you say that she was here?” He demanded as he embraced the beautiful woman tightly.

 

Rhaegar laughed. “I didn’t know.” He insisted. “I would not willingly have kept you from your beloved wife.”

 

Harry gave him a look, but he laughed regardless.

 

“I only arrived an hour ago.” Ashara said with a smile. “The children said that Rhaegar was sulking in the Maidenvault.”

 

Harry laughed fully then. “The best place for him.” Harry quipped.

 

Rhaegar sighed. “I went to the godswood, the Dragonpit and then to the Great Hall, where my beloved husband found me.”

 

“Enough of that, how are you, Ashara?”

 

“Wonderful.” Ashara said. “I decided to come for a short visit to see my favourite royals, and my brother of course.”

 

“I do love how I was second on that list.” Arthur said.

 

“I’ve had enough of you already.” Ashara laughed.

 

“Come, have you been offered refreshment?” Harry asked.

 

“I have, your beautiful daughters have been very dutiful too.” She praised. “Sweet Naerys and practical Maella. That dress that she is making is going to be copied from one end of the Seven Kingdoms to the other.”

 

Harry smiled at the praise. “Maella always was very fond of needlework. You know she tried to sew Maelor’s fingers together when they were six, she claimed that she was practising, thank the Gods that Ser Balon caught them at it.”

 

“She is very talented.” Rhaegar said proudly at a very straight and tall Maella who was listening, the very aforementioned dress draped over her lap. She was elaborately embroidering the hem of it today, she had finished both sleeves already.

 

“Mother!” Aeron cried out as he hurried into the solar, Aenar just a short pace behind him.

 

Harry embraced them both and kissed two little faces.

 

“It has been awful without you!” Aenar said, upset. Aeron nodded seriously beside him.

 

“Why?” Harry asked. “What has happened? Aenar, your arm?”

 

“No, Mother. My arm is fine and Grand Maester Gormon says that it is healing really well.”

 

“Then what has happened?” He asked seriously.

 

“Everyone is angry and won’t say why.” Aeron said sadly. “Was it something that we did?”

 

“Oh, boys, no.” Harry said. “Come, sit down.”

 

Harry got both his sons onto the settee, one on either side of him.

 

“Your Father and I had a bit of a fight, okay? It happens sometimes. We always make up afterwards, but when we do fight, it can be bad. Your brothers and sisters blamed your Father and refused to speak to him, that’s all. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“Is that why you were all cut up? Did Father do that to you?” Aeron asked, his young voice wavering as he sent his Father a terrified look.

 

“No.” Harry said firmly. “Your Father has _never_ hit me. Not once. Those marks you saw upon me, I did to myself, as penance for fighting with him, as you should never fight or say hurtful things to those you love.”

 

“So…so you fought with one another and…and now what?” Aenar asked.

 

“And now nothing. We have made up and we are our normal selves.” Harry said.

 

“You remember when you and Aeron had that fight over whose sword was whose.” Rhaegar said gently, hunching down in front of the settee, looking at both boys. “What did you do, Aenar?”

 

“I…I hit Aeron because it was _my_ sword and he said that it was his and it wasn’t.”

 

“Why did you hit Aeron? He is your twin brother and you love him, so why did you want to hurt him?”

 

“I…I don’t know, I just wanted him to understand that it was my sword and he kept arguing, and I got so angry, so I hit him.”

 

“It is a little like that. Your Mother and I disagreed over something and we fought like you and Aeron did, only we have never once hit each other, we would not dare to do so. But we still love one another very much, we just shout at one another sometimes if we disagree over something.”

 

“You would not dare to harm me.” Harry chuckled. “I would have your head off quicker than you could apologise.”

 

“I do not doubt it.” Rhaegar laughed, bending forward and kissing him. “Just as I know that you would never harm me in turn.”

 

“Of course not, we’re not so old yet, I still have need of you.”

 

The screeches and screams of their children amused Harry so much that he couldn’t breathe through his laughter.

 

“I don’t understand.” Aenar said confusedly. “What happened?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, sweet one. You’ll know soon enough, until then you can remain sweet and innocent.” Rhaegar said, pressing a kiss to Aenar’s cheek.

 

“So, everything is alright now?” Naerys asked.

 

“Yes, my love. Everything is fine.”

 

“Good!” She declared before she clambered onto her Father’s lap and knocked him onto his arse. “I missed our hugs.”

 

Rhaegar laughed, but he held her tight, at least until Maella put aside her dress and leapt onto his back. Not to be left out, Aerin joined them, but Aenar stayed beside him, casting a forlorn look at his bound arm.

 

“It won’t be long now, my love.” Harry assured him. “A week or two more and this binding will be able to come off and you can go back to playing and climbing as usual.”

 

“It seems like it has been forever.”

 

“I know it does, but truly it hasn’t been and it will be healed very soon. You just need to take a little more care with it for a short while longer and then you will be free of it.”

 

“And it will be the same as it was before?”

 

“No, I’m sorry, Aenar, but it will always be weaker than the other arm. Once you have broken a bone, it is never as strong as it once was.”

 

“But, I can still be a knight? You said that I’d still be able to be a knight!”

 

Harry smiled and held Aenar tightly. “You will be able to become a knight, of course you will. You’ll just always have to keep your eye on this arm. If you do not believe me then all you need to do is go and ask every knight that you know how many bones they have broken in their lifetimes.”

 

“Your Mother is right, Prince Aenar.” Ser Arthur said gently from behind them. “I have broken my arm twice.”

 

“You have?” Aenar asked, turning around, going up on his knees and peering up at Arthur with wide, admiring eyes.

 

“I have, once when I was a boy like you, and once in a tourney when I was in my twenties.” Arthur insisted.

 

“I’ve had my ribs broken twice.” Rhaegar said. “Yet I can still fight.”

 

“I broke my leg falling from a tower in Sunspear as a child.” Lewyn added.

 

“It’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck!” Harry snorted.

 

“Thankfully I landed in a cart of silks from Naath, but my leg caught the edge of the cart as I fell and it broke. It was awful waiting for it to heal as, unlike you, my tiny Prince, I couldn’t even get up to walk. I was confined to my bed for nearly three turns waiting for it to heal.”

 

“That sounds awful!” Aenar said, looking at his bound arm in a new light.

 

“Your Mother is right, near every knight has broken something at least once.” Ser Barristan said kindly. “It will not stop you from being a knight.”

 

“Yes!” Aenar cheered. “I need to make up with my sword play too, for all that I’ve missed, but I am glad that this will not stop me from becoming the greatest knight of all time.”

 

They all shared a laugh at that declaration and the enthusiasm of children. Harry breathed in deeply and looked at Rhaegar when he finally extracted himself from their children and sat beside him, one arm automatically slipping around his shoulders and pulling him to his lips to press a kiss to his temple.

 

“I love you so much.” Rhaegar declared.

 

Harry smiled as he looked out at his family, at his friends.

 

“We’ve done so well, Rhaegar.” Harry said happily. “We have a big, beautiful family. We’ve secured the Iron Throne, we’ve brought back the dragons, we have friends and allies, but most of all, we have one another. Thank you for being my husband.”

 

Rhaegar laughed and looked at him before kissing him. “No, thank you for loving me, for being so stubborn and so persistent. For showing me what we could have together and for each and every one of our babes.”

 

“Ah, you’re such a sweet talker.” Harry teased. “Your tongue as smooth as silk.”

 

Rhaegar bent right into his ear and whispered. “You love my silky tongue….in certain places.”

 

Harry blushed red. “You’re terrible, but yes…yes I do.”

 

Rhaegar chuckled deeply. “Perhaps I will treat you tonight, as a welcome home gift.”

 

Harry grinned, then laughed. “I do love you with all of my heart. Let us give up these suicide ventures and grow old together.”

 

“My love, I hate to tell you, but we’re already old.” Rhaegar said seriously, but with a smile.

 

“You cannot speak for us both, I am five years younger than you are.”

 

Rhaegar laughed and held him tighter, Harry slid in closer and he rested his head on Rhaegar’s chest.

 

“This is what our lives are for.” Harry said. “This…our babes around us, all of them happy, another minor rebellion put down, our family safe once more.”

 

“With a little luck and the will of the Gods this is the last time we will have to put down a rebellion. Three in our lifetime, it is at least two too many.”

 

“The fool is dead, the Lannisters are now under our heel and the mad Septon and the fearful Maesters have been… _pruned_. Like dead flower heads from an otherwise healthy plant.” Harry said with a small smile. “We should have no more trouble. We will not relax, nor close our eyes to such dangers, but nor will we become paranoid or start seeing dangers in the shadows.”

 

“No, we will have to build the Citadel up again and weed out any notions of killing off the dragons as the Maesters were rumoured to have done before. We will not grow complacent, but it is time that we took more for ourselves and start relaxing a little. We’ve earned it, we deserve it. We need some peace for ourselves now. I love you.”

 

Harry kissed Rhaegar once more and he settled, just watching, silently…peacefully. This was perfect, utterly perfect and nothing else could compare. He would never stop worrying nor fretting, but as long as he was alive, he was always going to watch out for his babes and be on hand to give them advice and help. He took in a very large, deep breath and he let it out slowly, turning his head to place it more firmly over Rhaegar’s heart. This was perfect.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

Several turns later and once more everything had settled into their daily routine of normalcy. Willas had taken over the clean-up of Oldtown and the repairs of the Citadel. The remaining Maesters, those who hadn’t been executed under the Kings’ justice, had once more sworn allegiance to the crown and to the two Kings’…publically, in front of a watching crowd of thousands.

He and Rhaegar had made a loving speech, about acceptance and care, how they held the learned men of the Citadel in high esteem and about how the illegal Faith Militant had been put down so that they couldn’t harm anyone ever again, of which the smallfolk had cheered loudly. He and Rhaegar had taken it in turns to speak, never cutting across the other, but just gliding easily between one another, as they had always done. They both reassured the smallfolk in their speech that they and their family were dedicated to protecting them and their way of life and that anything that threated one, was a threat to the other. They’d gotten more cheers for that. They had called a tourney to be held at Kings Landing to celebrate the ending of the Citadel rebellion and as a mark of the rebuild of the new order of learning of the realm. That had gotten them the biggest cheer, but then they had known that it would. The smallfolk were simple people with simple lives, as long as they could eat and be entertained, they were happy.

For once in their lives Rhaegar did not participate in the tourney, and Harry finally got to sit beside his husband as they both watched as spectators, their hearts in their throats as Rhaegon and Aerin came upon one another in the final tilt of the jousting. Aerin won and Harry nudged Rhaegar and nodded to a very pretty boy with a shock of pale blond hair and big blue eyes cheering his heart out against the railings that fenced off the jousting lines…Aerin’s beloved Noha.

Rhaegon was thankfully unhurt as he congratulated his brother graciously, laughing happily as if he were the victor, showing true sportsmanship and the gallantry of his high birth. He walked over to them, but it was to his wife and young daughters whom he was heading to see, as he swept both girls up, in an arm each, before kissing his wife and then the tiny babe wrapped in a shawl in her arms.

Aerin had been celebrating with Aenys, but he kept sending rather noticeable looks over to Noha. It was clear where he would much rather be, or rather who he would much rather be celebrating with.

Their Aelyx had recovered very well after her imprisonment in Oldtown and she had laid her eggs in Kings Landing, where it was quieter after Baelon had taken nearly all of the other dragons back to Summerhall with him. She had only laid two eggs and she had incubated them perfectly, both had hatched and had been named Daegal and Maerion.

Saera’s two eggs had also hatched, being named Arlys and Starspear…the latter had been named by a very excited, visiting Garyn, who had been enchanted with the silver and white egg and had claimed that the equally silver and white dragon was his. Starspear would not respond to any other name, so like as not, they had a Starspear who had bonded strongly to Garyn, much to his parents’ dismay as their son was rather young for the responsibilities of his own dragon, but Harry was sure that Helaena would help him.

Pyrexian’s three eggs had hatched at near the same time as Saera’s, the both of them having been impregnated at the same time by Rhaelys, and Rhaegon and Baelon had both claimed their own personal dragons. Rhaegon had named his blue and purple dragon Tessarax. Baelon had named his black and blue dragon Vermithal. The third and final dragon hatchling had been named Syrys.

He and Rhaegar were teaching the hatchlings and training them, as they had done with all their born dragons, but they had surprisingly little to teach them, as their sons barely left the hatchlings alone and the adult dragons were so watchful of the cat sized hatchlings and were teaching them themselves, whether it was where to find their water, or how to unleash their fire to cook meat that was brought back to the den for them.

Balerion, Aelyx and their two hatchlings had been moved safely to Summerhall once they were large enough and it was safe enough. He and Rhaegar had held a hatchling each and it had been a tense flight to the Targaryen palace, but they had all made it safely and the seven hatchlings were growing up together, all of them interacting happily.

It was a time of peace in the Seven Kingdoms, how long this one would last, they couldn’t even guess, none of them wanted to, and as things were heading, it seemed that the next rebellion would come over their, now four-and-ten year old daughter, Naerys, who was now known to be flowered, but was strongly refusing to take a husband or a betrothal. She was still polite and gentle and she would dance generously with anyone who asked her to do so, but if any of those men had hoped to talk her around or to sway her into marriage, they were all left sorely disappointed. She was not interested and until she did meet a man whom she liked enough, if she ever did, she was very happy to be free and unattached to anyone.

Their Valarr was also much happier as he was now an acolyte of the new Citadel, and their unofficial spy on the Maesters. Harry had made him promise not to give up his name and family, to swear to no oaths until he had been at the Citadel for some years. Valarr had done as such, so they had all come to a happier compromise. Though Lord Blackwood was regretting his rather fervent rejection of Valarr now that the only interest that his Bethany was getting were from the Freys, who were also still trying to wrangle a marriage with Aerin or Naerys, both of which were rejected every few turns when the raven inevitably arrived with the proposition.

Aenar’s bindings had come off and his arm showed no sign of his bad break and now nine years old, he and his twin Aeron were getting into all sorts of mischief and mishaps, as they sparred almost every day with the Kingsguard, went swimming in Blackwater Bay and on hawking trips to Highgarden when they visited their much older sister and their nephew, who was only two years younger than them.

Viserys and Arianne had had their first pregnancy…twin babes, a girl and a boy. Harry had flown to Dragonstone to deliver the babes personally after Arianne had started having problems with a long and difficult labour and Viserys had sent him a swift raven for help. He had delivered first Visenya and then Olyvar. The babes had both been born healthy and their two parents’ were very happy.

Truly all of them were now happy. There wasn’t much to be unhappy or displeased with. Their family was still growing, spreading and thriving. Their dragons were breeding with one another and producing new babes and they were all trained very well. The realm was quiet and peaceful, oh they still had their fair share of smallfolk grievances and all sorts of disputes to manage and quell, but such things were commonplace for a King…or rather two of them. It was usually rather easy to put to rest and they would then be able to carry on with their day.

They were slowing down a little more now as they got older, they were feeling the effects more and more of their activity and their rather busy lives. They had started going to bed earlier, getting up a little later than usual, but they still had several years left in them yet, before they would officially retire from public duties and hand the crown over to their Rhaegon, so that he could take over for them as they did nothing but relax and enjoy one another’s company. Not that they didn’t already, but they didn’t usually have more than a few hours together a day and when all they wanted was to sit down and relax, it was grating on them both a little more than usual. One of them was always wearing the crown, answering grievances, taking the head of the small council, then there was Naerys and Aenar and Aeron to look after, the dragons in the Dragonpit to see to, and that was if they didn’t get a raven from one of their babes out in the wide world asking for advice, assistance or a visit and on top of that they were also planning Maella’s wedding to Lewys Lydden. They had known that it was coming, but at seven-and-ten, Maella was done waiting and she wished to be married, so there was even more work to be piled on top of everything else that they had to do.

It was not all bad, however. They did still get to sleep in one another’s arms at night, it was just a shame that that was all they did…sleep. The both of them were always too tired or too sore to do anything more, but the both of them had finally had enough. They were not young, fit boys any longer, they were getting to be old, stressed men. They had passed more work onto Rhaegon and their small council, preparing for the changeover in power. Once Rhaegon had proven to them all that he could fully handle the responsibility, then they would know that he was ready and they could finally have the unending peace that they deserved…or as much peace as they ever bloody got within their rather large family at least. Harry had been the King since he was nine-and-ten, Rhaegar since he was four-and-twenty, it had been twenty-three years since then, it was time for them to rest a little more.

Harry sighed as another long, arduous day ended and he finally got to climb into his bed, crawling over Rhaegar, who grunted and shoved him over, rolling onto his side and trying to get to sleep.

 

“Love you.” Harry grunted tiredly as he slipped under the sheets.

 

“Love you too. Come here.”

 

Rhaegar rolled over onto his back once more and threw an arm out, Harry rolled into the crook of Rhaegar’s arm and planted his face in his husband’s chest. The arm wrapped around him and held him tightly.

 

“Maybe Rhaegon can have the crown by the end of this year?” Harry pressed.

 

Rhaegar snorted softly, his indigo eyes still closed. “I’d give it to him tomorrow morning if I didn’t think it was too abrupt a change.”

 

“The year three hundred and eight after Aegon’s Conquering.” Harry said before he yawned widely and loudly. “It seems the perfect year for a change in monarchy.”

 

“If we can survive that long.” Rhaegar said, rather dramatically in Harry’s opinion.

 

“We can, for one another. We need to give the realm the chance to adjust to the change and give everyone plenty of time to get used to the idea of us stepping down and Rhaegon stepping up. This will give them almost a year, ten full turns, to prepare for things and get used to it.”

 

Rhaegar hummed. “I like the idea. We will tell them…them in the morning.” He said around his own yawn. “Until then, by all the gods, just go to sleep and stop speaking.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Alright, you win, but only because I am as exhausted as you are, I wore the crown all day today. My neck has shrunk into my shoulders.”

 

Rhaegar hummed again, his normal response when he was on the edge of drifting into sleep. “I love you, Harry.”

 

Harry smiled against Rhaegar’s chest, nuzzling his face into the soft sleeping tunic that Rhaegar was wearing. “I love you too, forever and always, my brother, my husband.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> A/N: I am so sorry that this has taken me almost a year to write and get out for you, lovelies, but truly, I had not expected that this epilogue would be our longest chapter for this fic, not with two 50,000 word chapters already written. I had originally wanted just a few thousand words, perhaps 5,000 at most, just to sum everything up and to neatly end the fic, but when I got to actually writing it, well, as you can see it clearly had ideas of its own and it is by far the longest chapter for this fic, and indeed the longest chapter I have ever written for anything before.
> 
> I hope that you have all enjoyed this last chapter, regardless of how long it has taken me to finish it, and I hope that you liked the additional bit of drama, as many of you wanted to see the Maesters get their comeuppance after they had been the ones to stunt and destroy the ancestral dragons of the Targaryens a hundred and fifty years previous, and then the final ending, and of course the dragons and the children too. I am so glad to finally have this epilogue chapter finished at last.
> 
> It’s going to be sad to say goodbye to Harry and to Rhaegar after all of this time, but I’m sure I will think of more fics to pair them up in, though I have several others to do first, including a Drogo/Harry, because truly, how can anyone ignore the stunning Drogo/Jason Momoa as a potential pairing? So that is currently in he works.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you have all enjoyed the epilogue to this fic, lovelies and I can finally put this one to rest at last. I am so happy and so excited to know all of your thoughts, but I’m also nervous too! I hope I haven’t missed anything out or forgotten anything!
> 
> For easier viewing, here is the remaining part of the family tree with the addition of the grandchildren/granddragons to go with the one at the top.
> 
>  
> 
> Garyn Tyrell – Helaena/Willas - Highgarden
> 
> Shaea Targaryen and Rhaenys Targaryen – Rhaegon/Janei – Kings Landing
> 
> Daenya Allyrion – Haeraenya/Dyon - Godsgrace
> 
> Aeloras Dayne – Aelinor/Edric - Starfall
> 
> Aelin Rykker – Aelora/Ren - Duskendale
> 
> Gwynys Targaryen – Aenys/Gwyneth – N/A (Kings Landing)
> 
> Aedus Targaryen – Baelon/Joy - Summerhall
> 
> Jaerys Whent – Daenerys/Oslyn - Harrenhal
> 
> Visenya Targaryen and Olyvar Targaryen – Viserys/Arianne - Dragonstone
> 
> -x
> 
> Arlys and Starspear – Saera/Rhaelys
> 
> Tessarax, Vermithal and Syrys – Pyrexian/Rhaelys
> 
> Daegal and Maerion – Aelyx/Balerion.
> 
>  
> 
> So this wraps up everything in a nice bow now, I believe. Thank you so much for sticking with me throughout this fic, despite how long it has taken me, and I hope that you have enjoyed this final instalment, lovelies.
> 
>  
> 
> StarLight Massacre. X


End file.
